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3 o cents. BOOTH'S SERIES OF ACTING PLAYS. No. 8. 

SHAKESPEARE'S 

TRAGEDY OF 

OTHELLO 

THE MOOR OF VENICE 

AS PRODUCED BY 

EDWIN BOOTH. 

Adapted from the Text of the Cambridge Editors, with Introdu&ory Remarks, 6fc, 

By HENRY L. HINTON. 



NEW YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY HURD & HOUGHTON, 

459 BROOME STREET. 



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HURD AND HOUGHTON, Publishers, 
459 Broome Street, New York. 



SHAKESPEARE'S 

TRAGEDY OF 

OTHELLO 

THE MOOR OF VENICE 

AS PRODUCED BY 

EDWIN BOOTH. 

Adapted from the Text of the Cambridge Editors, with Introductory Remarks, &?c, 

By HENRY L. HINTON. 



NEW YORK 



PUBLISHED BY HURD & HOUGHTON, 
459 BROOME STREET. 






.A*H r 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, 
By HENRY L. HINTON, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New York, 



INTRODUCTION 



Doran, in his ' Annals of the Euglisk Stage' tells us Ducis adapted 
Shakespeare's Othello to the French stage, for which he furnished two 
versions. In the first, he killed' Desdemona according to tradition. At 
this, ladies fainted away, and gentlemen protestingly vociferated. Ducis 
altered the catastrophe, whereat Paris became divided into two parties, 
who supported the happy or the tragic conclusion, as their feelings 
prompted them. Talma played the Moor ; and bred, as he had been, in 
the shadow and the sunlight of the English stage, he was disgusted with 
the liberty taken with Shakespeare. One night, when the piece was to 
end as merrily as a comedy, and the last acl was about to begin, Ducis 
heard Talma muttering at the wing, e I will kill her. The pit will not 
suffer it, I am sure. Well, I will make them endure and enjoy it. She 
shall be killed !' Ducis tremblingly acouiesced, and Talma restored the 
old catastrophe. There was some opposition, and a little fainting on the 
part of the susceptible, but, in presence of the marvelous talent of the 
a£tor, all antagonism gave way ; and Talma, with reasonable pride, noti- 
fied to his friends on the English stage the successful effort he had made in 
support of the integrity of the Shakespeare catastrophe. We have taken 
no such liberty with the text as M. Ducis. Our 'tamperings' — except 
in a very few instances where it was necessary to substitute certain words 
that would be less offensive to our refined audiences than the original ones 
— aim only at shortening the play, at concentrating the dramatic action, 
which in the original is given at so great length as to be unsuited to our 
modern custom of assigning only a few hours of the evening to a dramatic 
representation which formerly occupied the greater part of the day. In 
making this consolidation, we have avoided, as much as possible, all piece- 
meal cutting, preferring generally to erase a scene rather than to mutilate 



iv INTRODUCTION. 

it, which it would seem has been the practice heretofore. We hold the 
text of Shakespeare as sacred, and although compelled, as in this instance, 
to curtail a play, we feel almost as though the invective on Shakespeare's 
tomb, against him who moves the poet's bones, was leveled at us for pre- 
suming to take the liberty we do. 

' Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear 
To dig the dust inclosed here ; 
Blest be the man that spares these stones, 
And curst be he that moves my bones.' 

We are told that Garrick and Lekain, in like manner, respected the 
original text of our author ; but the former, more readily than the latter, 
adopted so-called * emendations.' We should think so, indeed, for the 
adaptations of the former, which still disgrace the stage, bear very much 
the mark of attempted 'improvements.' The following incident would 
seem to show that the great French actor was more respectful : ' When 
Marmontel "improved" the bold phrases of old Rotrou's Ve?iceslas, 
Lekain repeated the improvements at rehearsal, but at night he kept to the 
original passages of the author, and thus created confusion among his fel- 
low-actors, who lost their " cues." ' In this, Garrick, it is said, deemed him 
unjustifiable. Although for the sake of scenic effect, and the difference in 
our modern audiences, certain variations from the original text of Shake- 
speare become necessary, yet it is in accordance with the spirit of Lekain 
that we of this day, who reverence the great poet, demand that they 
should be made. 

The plot of Othello is taken from the Hecatommithi, or Hundred 
Tales of Giraldi Cinthio, who was a third-rarte Italian novelist and dra- 
matist of the sixteenth century. The story is very short, not longer than 
one act of the play, and the characters consist only of the Moor, Desde- 
mona, the lieutenant, the ensign and his wife. The incidents of the novel 
and the play are also dissimilar in many resoects. 

M. Guizot thus contrasts the Italian Moro di Venezia v/ith the English 
Othello : ' There was wanting in Cinthio's narrative the poetical genius 
which filled the scene with actors ; which created the individuals ; which 
gave each of them his own aspect, form, and character ; which made us 
see their actions and listen -to their words; which unfolded their thoughts 
and penetrated their feelings — that vivifying power which summons events 
10 rise, to progress, to expand, to be completed — that creative breath 



INTRODUCTION. v 

which, breathing over the past, calls it again into being, and fills it with a 
present and imperishable life. This was the power which Shakespeare 
alone possessed, and by this, out of a forgotten novel, he has made 
Othello: 

Richard Burbadge, actor and artist, was the original Othello. The par- 
ticulars concerning his a£ting of this part are not known, but there is every 
reason to believe that it was great, for he had Shakespeare himself as an 
instructor, and was in his day styled c our English Roscius.' In an elegy 
upon him in a MS. of the early part of the seventeenth century, his 
Othello is thus eulogized : — 

' But let me not forget one chiefest part, 
Wherein, beyond the rest, he moved the heart j 
The grieved Moor, made jealous by a slave, 
Who sent his wife to fill a timeless grave, 
Then slew himself upon the bloody bed.' 

Burbadge died in 1618, and was succeeded in the part by Nathaniel 
Field, who, it is thought, was a performer of women's parts, and was 
probably the original Desdemona. The following MS. epigram of the 
time, quoted by Mr. Collier, satirizing him for his jealousy, shows th t 
he, too, was also a good Othello : — 

< De Agello et Othello. 

1 Field is, in sooth, an a&or — all men know it — 
And is the true Othello of the Poet. 
I wonder if 'tis true, as people tell us, 
That, like the character, he is most jealous. 
If it be so — and many living swear it — 
It takes not little from the actor's merit; 
Since, as the Moor is jealous of his wife, 
Field can display the passion to the life.' 

Joseph Taylor, we learn from Wright's Histona Histrionica, played 
Iago. It i- thought that he was the original, but of his rendering of the 
role nothing is known. What part, if any, Shakespeare himself sustained 
in this play, is also still unknown, but, if we may judge from those parts 
which he is known to have assumed in some of his other plays, we should 
say Brabantio. 



vi INTRODUCTION. 

In later times the c silver-tongued ' Barry seems, according to tradi- 
tion, to have won the laurels as Othello, and Mrs. Siddons as Desdemona. 
' You have no idea/ the latter writes, * how the innocence and playful 
simplicity of my Desdemona have laid hold on the hearts of the people. 
I am very much flattered by this, as nobody has ever done any thing with 
that character before.' John Kemble said of Edmund Kean's Othello : 
• If the justness of its conception had been but equal to the brilliancy of 
execution, it would have been perfect ; but the whole thing is a mistake, 
the fact being that Othello was a slow man,' upon which Doran justly 
remarks, c To be moved, he was ; but being moved, swift and terrible in 
moving to consequent purpose.' Coleridge thought Kean was not 
thorough-bred gentleman enough to play the part. He says : ' Kean is 
original, but he copies from himself. His rapid descents from the hyper- 
tragic to the infra-colloquial, though sometimes productive of great erTe6t, 
are often unreasonable. To see him a6t is like reading Shakespeare by 
flashes of lightning.' Kean passed from the stage with the celebrated 
'Farewell! Othello's occupation 's gone!' The incident is touchingly 
told by Doran, and is not out of place here. e He aroused himself to 
make, as it proved, his last appearance on the stage. The play was 
Othello, his son, Mr. Charles Kean, playing Iago. The night was the 
25th of March, 1833. Edmund Kean was so shattered in frame that he 
had scarcely strength to pass over him the dress of the Moor ; so shattered 
in nerve, that he dreaded some disaster. Brandy gave some little heart to 
the greatly fallen actor, but he anxiously enjoined his son to be ever near 
him, in case of some mischance, and he went through the part, dying as 
he went, till, after giving the sweet utterance, as of old, to the celebrated 
'Farewell,' ending with ' Othello's occupation 's gone !' he attempted to 
utter the next speech, and in the attempt fell on his son's shoulder, with 
a whispered moan, ' I am dying — speak to them for me !' . The curtain 
here descended on him forever, and the rest was only slow death, with 
intervals of hope.' 

The Othello of our own Edwin Forrest is placed by our best critics at 
the zenith of his Shakespearean efforts. Those, however, whose fortune it 
was to witness the Othello of the elder Booth can never forget this per- 
formance. It combined the fire of Kean's with the dignity of Kemble's, 
and the mellow tones of Barry's. 

The wonderful elocutionary powers of this great actor are thus described 
by Elihu Burritt in a late issue of The Church Union. We quote it, no? 



INTRODUCTION. vii 

as apropos of Othello, but from a desire to preserve from the ravages of 
time whatever 'fugitive memorials of this man come to our hand. The 
actor's fame is, at best, traditionary and fleeting. ' Booth, the celebrated 
tragedian, was a man who threw into his impersonations an amount of 
heart and soul which his originals could scarcely have equaled. He did 
Richard III. to the life, and more. He had made human passions, emo- 
tions, and experiences, his life's study. He could not only act but feel 
rage, love, despair, hate, ambition, fury, hope, and revenge, with a 
depth and force that half amazed, his auditors. He could transmute him- 
self into the hero of his impersonation, and he could breathe a power into 
other men's written words which perhaps never was surpassed ; and what 
is rather remarkable, when he was inclined to give illustrations of this 
faculty to private circles of friends, he nearly always selected some passage 
' from Job, David, Isaiah, or other holy men of old. When an aspiring 
young professor erf Harvard University went to him by night to ask a little 
advice or instruction in qualifying himself for an orator, the veteran trage- 
dian opened the Bible, and read a few verses from Isaiah in a way that 
made the Cambridge scholar tremble with awe, as if the prophet had 
arisen from the dead and was uttering his sublime visions in his ears. He 
was then residing in Baltimore, and a pious, urbane old gentleman of the 
city, hearing of his wonderful power of elocution, one day invited him 
to dinner, although strongly deprecating the stage and all theatrical per- 
formances. A large company sat down to the table, and on returning to 
the drawing-room one of them requested Booth, as a special favor to them 
all, to repeat the Lord's Prayer. He signified his willingness to gratify 
them, and all eyes were fixed upon him. He slowly and reverentially 
rose from his chair, trembling with the burden of two great conceptions. 
He had to realize the character, attributes, and presence of the Almighty 
Being he was to address. He was to transform himself into a poor, sin- 
ning, stumbling, benighted, needy suppliant, offering homage, asking bread, 
pardon, light and guidance. Says one of the company present : "It was 
wonderful to watch the play of emotions that convulsed his countenance. 
He became deathly pale, and his eyes, turned tremblingly upward, were 
wet with tears. As yet he had not spoken. The silence could be felt ; 
it had become absolutely painful, until at last the spell was broken as if by 
an electric shock, as his rich-toned voice, from white lips, syllabled forth 
' Our Father, which art in heaven/ etc., with a pathos and fervicL^olem- 
nity that thrilled all hearts. He finished ; the silence continued ; not a 



viii INTRODUCTION. 

voice was heard nor a muscle moved in his rapt audience, until from a 
remote corner of the room a subdued sob was heard, and the old gentle- 
man (the host) stepped forward with streaming eyes and tottering frame, 
and seized Booth by the hand. 'Sir,' said he, in broken accents, 'you 
have afforded me a pleasure for which my whole future life will feel grate- 
ful. I am an old man, and every day, from boyhood to the present time, 
I thought I had repeated the Lord's Prayer ; but I never heard it before — 
never!' 'You are right,' replied Booth; 'to read that prayer as it 
should be read caused me the severest study and labor for thirty years, 
and I am far from being satisfied with my rendering of that wonderful 
production. ' " ' 



COSTUME. 

From some historical facts mentioned in Othello, it has been inferred 
that the time of the play is about the year 1 5 70. 

The marked feature of the Venetian costume of that period is the 
gown, which was worn very full and long, both by the young and the 
old. There are, moreover, many absurdities in the fashions then prevail- 
ing, which, if accurately re-produced, would suit better the comic than 
the tragic stage. We are consequently compelled to adopt very much the 
same style of costume as that described in our remarks prefacing the Mer- 
chant of Venice, to which, therefore, we refer the reader. 

A mooted point is the dress proper to Othello himself. Shall it be 
Moorish or Venetian ? Verplanck thus treats this topic : — 

' Upon this point painters and tragedians have differed from one another 
very widely ; some attiring the Moor of Venice as a Mohammedan prince, 
while within some forty years, he was arrayed in an English major-general's 
uniform on the London boards. In historical strictness, it is very certain 
that the Venetian general (who, from motives of state policy as to their 
aristocracy, was always a foreigner, if not to Italy, at least to Venice) 
wore an official dress, described by Vicellio, a contemporary of Shake- 
speare's, as a gown of crimson velvet, with loose sleeves, over which was 
a mantle of cloth-of-gold, buttoned over the shoulder with massy gold 
buttons. His cap was of crimson velvet, and he bore a silver baton like 
those ^which are still the official designations of the field marshals in 
Europe. When in actual service, he wore the knight's armor of the age, 



INTRODUCTION. ix 

with the mantle and baton. Othello, though he could not hold this office 
if he were a Venetian, could not have held office at all unless a Christian 
in profession, and must, of course, have assumed the appropriate costume 
as much as if he had been a Frenchman, or a German, or a Neapolitan. 

' Thus much for the antiquarian accuracy of the costume, without regard 
to what may have been Shakespeare's own ideal portrait of the Moor. 
But of his intention on this point there can not be much doubt. He did 
not conceive his Moor as attired in Mohammedan costume. The Moor 
is one who would not " renounce his baptism, the seals and symbols of 
redeemed sin." In his last breath he describes the "dog" whom he 
smote for beating a Venetian and traducing Venice, as a " malignant and 
turban' d Turk." This the poet could not mean for a portrait of the 
State's own commanding general, who elsewhere speaks of his own ft helm." 
The Turks, too, are the enemies of Venice, and no dramatic poet could 
have conceived so gross an incongruity as the general of any Christian 
State wearing the uniform and customary attire of the enemies whom he 
is to combat. But Othello, so far from being represented as a person neg- 
ligent of these matters, is a soldier, delighting in all " quality, pride, 
pomp, and circumstance of glorious war." ' 

The reasons here put forth for the adoption of the Venetian dress are 
unanswerable • nevertheless, it is not natural to suppose that Othello would 
have so completely changed his nature, with his change of nationality, as 
to check all exhibition of former tastes. While necessarily compelled to 
assume the garb of the Christian State, under whose banner he fought, he 
would still affect, as far as possible, the gorgeous display of the East. 

Then, too, when Works of pure imagination are put upon the stage, 
dramatic effect is more to be considered than historical accuracy, and who 
will deny that some touches of Oriental magnificence in the costume of 
Othello would diversify and heighten the total effect of the piece ? 
1* 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

Of this adaptation of Othello as cast for its first representation at Booth's Theatre, New 
York, . 



Duke of Venice 

Brabantio, a senator 

Gratiano, brother to Brabantio 

Lodovico, kinsman to Brabantio 

Othello, a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state. 

Cassio, his lieutenant 

Iago, his ancient 

Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman • 

Montano, Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus .• 

First Senator Second Officer . . . 

Second Senator A Messenger 

Third Senator A Herald 

First Officer , A Sailor 



Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello 

Emilia, wife to Iago 

Senators, Officers, Gentlemen, Attendants, Peasants, &c. 

Scene : Venice : a seaport in Cyprus. 



Note. — The asterisks that occasionally appear in the text refer to the glossary. 



THE TRAGEDY OF 

OTHELLO, 

THE MOOR OF VENICE. 

ACT I. 

Scene I. Venice, A street. 
Enter Roderigo and Iago. 

Rod. Tush, never tell" me ; I take it much unkindly 
That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse 
As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. 

Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me : 
If ever I did dream of such a matter, 
Abhor me. 

Rod. Thou told ? st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. 

Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, 
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, 
Off-capp'd to him : and, by the faith of man, 
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place : 
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, 
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance* 
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war ; 
And, in conclusion, 



12 .OTHELLO. [act i. 

Nonsuits my mediators ; for, ' Certes,'* says he, 

1 I have already chose my officer/ 

And what was he ? 

Forsooth, a great arithmetician, 

One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, 

That never set a squadron in the field, 

Nor the division of a battle knows 

More than a spinster. 

He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, 

And I — bless the mark ! — his Moorship's ancient.* 

Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. 

Iago. Why, there's no remedy ; 'tis the curse of service, 
Preferment goes by letter and affection, 
And not by the old gradation, where each second 
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself 
Whether I in any just term am affined* 
To love the Moor. 

Rod. I would not follow him then. 

Iago. O, sir,. content you ; 
I follow him to serve my turn upon him : 
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark 
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,'* 
That doting on his own obsequious bondage 
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, 
For nought but provinder, and when he's old, cashier'd : 
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are 
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, 
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, 
And throwing but shows of service on their lords 
Do well thrive by them, and when they have lined their coats 
Do themselves homage : these fellows have some soul, 
And such a one do I profess myself. 
For, sir, 
It is as sure as you are Roderigo, 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 13 

Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago : 
In following him, I follow but myself; 
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 
But seeming so, for my peculiar end : 
For when my outward a£tion doth demonstrate 
The native a£t and figure of my heart 
In compliment extern,* 'tis not long after 
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 
For daws to peck at : I am not what I am. 

Rod. What a full* fortune does the thick-lips 1 owe,* 
If he can carry't thus ! 

Iago. Call up her father, 

Rouse him : make after him, poison his delight, 
Proclaim him in the streets ; incense her kinsmen, 
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 
Plague him with flies : though that his joy be joy, 
Yet throw such changes of vexation on't 
As it may lose some colour. 

Rod. Here is her father's house ; I'll call aloud. 

Iago. Do ; with like timorous accent and dire yell 
As when, by night and negligence, the fire 
Is spied in populous cities. 

1 * — the thick lips.'' — Othello's complexion and race have furnished a fruitful theme 
of discussion. Was he, as this phrase would indicate, a negro of the enslaved African 
race, or was he to be viev/ed, as Coleridge and others have thought, as a ' descendant of 
the proud Arabs who had borne sovereign sway in Europe (men "of royal siege ") and 
had filled an age of comparative darkness with their poetry and science ?' 

It is of importance to the true understanding and feeling of this drama, that we 
should not mistake the author's own intention and the understanding of his times, as to 
the relative social position of Othello and his bride. The truth here will be found, as 
truth so often is, half way between the two extreme opinions. 

The constant designation of Othello as the Moor, with the reference to Barbary as 
his native country, his royal descent, his education and experience as a soldier, mark him 
as descended from a civilized, mixed Arab and African race, then as well understood as 
now to be different from the other African races. This was a race that had met upon 
equal terms with the soldiers and nobles of Europe ; and we may learn from history, 
poetry, and romance, how much the ordinary feeling toward them differed from that 
which has since arisen, from other causes, toward the negro. — Vf.rpi.an.. 



H OTHELLO. [act i. 

Rod. What, ho, Brabantio ! Signior Brabantio, ho ! 

Iago. Awake ! what, ho, Brabantio ! thieves ! thieves ! thieves ! 
Look to your house, your daughter and your bags ! 
Thieves ! thieves ! 

Brabantio appears above, at a window. 

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons ? 
What is the matter there ? 

Rod. Signior, is all your family within ? 

Iago. Are your doors lock'd ? 

Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this ? 

Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you're robbM ; for shame, put on your gown ; 
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul ; 
Arise, arise ; 

Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, 
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you : 
Arise, I say. 

Bra. What, have you lost your wits ? 

Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice ? 

Bra. Not I : what are you ? 

Rod. My name is Roderigo. 

Bra. The worser welcome : 

I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors : 
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say 
My daughter is not for thee ; and now, in madness, 
Being full of supper and distempering draughts, 
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come 
To start my quiet. 

Rod. Sir, sir, sir — 

Bra. But thou must needs be sure 

My spirit and my place have in them power 
To make this bitter to thee. 

Rod. Patience, good sir. 

Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing ? this is Venice ; 
My house is not a grange.* 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 15 

Rod. Most grave Brabantio, 

In simple and pure soul I come to you. 

Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, 
if the devil bid you. — 

Bra. What profane wretch art thou ? 

Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and 
the Moor are now — 

Bra. Thou art a villain. 

Iago. You are — a senator. 

Bra. This thou shalt answer ; I know thee, Roderigo. 

Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, 
If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent, 
As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, 
At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night, 
Transported with no worse nor better guard 
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, 
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor, — 
If this be known to you, and your allowance,* 
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs ; 
But if you know not this, my manners tell me 
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe 
That, from* the sense of all civility, 
I thus would play and trifle with your reverence : 
Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, 
I say again, hath made a gross revolt, 
Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes, 
In an extravagant* and wheeling stranger 
Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself: 
If she be in her chamber or your house, 
Let loose on me the justice of the state 
For thus deluding you. 

Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho ! 

Give me a taper ! call up all my people ! 
This accident is not unlike my dream : 
Belief of it oppresses me already. 



16 OTHELLO. [act i. 

Light, I say ! light ! \_Exit above. 

lago. Farewell ; for I must leave you : 

It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, 
To be produced — as, if I stay, I shall — 
Against the Moor : for I do know, the state, 
However this may gall him with some check,* 7 ' 
Cannot with safety cast* him ; for he's embark'd 
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, 
Which even now stand in a£t, that, for their souls, 
Another of his fathom they have none 
To lead their business : in which regard, 
Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains, 
Yet for necessity of present life, 
I must show out a flag and sign of love, 
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, 
Lead to the Sagittary* the raised search ; 
And there will I be with him. So farewell. \Exit. 

Enter Brabantio, and Servants with torches. 

Bra. It is too true an evil : gone she is ; 
And what's to come of my despised time 
Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, 
Where didst thou see her ? O unhappy girl ! 
With the Moor, say'st thou ? Who would be a father ? 
How didst thou know 'twas she ? O, she deceives me 
Past thought ! What said she to you ? Get more tapers. 
Raise all my kindred. [Exeunt some of the servants.^ Are they 
married, think you ? 

Rod. Truly, I think they are. 

Bra. O heaven ! How got she out ? O treason of the blood ! 
Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds 
By what you see them a£t. Is there not charms 
By which the property of youth and maidhood 
May be abused ?* Have you not read, Roderigo, 
Of some such thing ? 



scene ii.] OTHELLO. 17 

Rod. Yes, sir, I have indeed. 

Bra. Call up my brother. \_Exit a servant^ O, would you 
had had her ! 

Enter Servants with torches. 
Some one way, some another. \Exeunt some of the servants .] Do 

you know 
Where we may apprehend her and the Moor ? 

Rod. I think I can discover him, if you please 
To get good guard and go along with me. 

Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; 
I may command at most. Get weapons, ho ! 
And raise some special officers of night. 
On, good Roderigo ; I'll deserve your pains. \_Exeunt< 

Scene II. Another street. 

Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants, with torches. 

lago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, 
Yet do I hold it very stuff* o* the conscience 
To do no contrived murder : I lack iniquity 
Sometimes to do me service : nine or ten times 
I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs. 

Oth. 'Tis better as it is. 

Iago. Nay, but he prated 

And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms 
Against your honour, 
That, with the little godliness I have, 
I did full hard forbear rum. But I pray you, sir, 
Are you fast married ? Be assured of this, 
That the magnifico* is much beloved, 
And hath in his effecl: a voice potential* 
As double as the duke's : he will divorce you, 
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance 
The law, with all his might to enforce it on, 
Will give him cable. 



18 OTHELLO. [act i. 

Oth. Let him do his spite: 

My services, which I have done the signiory, 
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know — 
Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, 
I shall promulgate — I fetch my life and being 
From men of royal siege, and my demerits* 
May speak unbonneted* to as proud a fortune 
As this that I have reach'd : for know, Iago, 
But that I love the gentle Desdemona, 
I would not my unhoused* free condition 
Put into circumscription and confine 
For the sea's worth. But, look ! what lights come yonder ? 

Iago. Those are the raised father and his friends : 
You were best go in. 

Oth. Not I ; I must be found : 

My parts, my title and my perfect soul, 
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they ? 

Iago. By Janus, I think no. 

Enter Cassio and Officers with torches. 

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. 
The goodness of the night upon you, friends ! 
What is the news ? 

Cas. The duke does greet you, general,- 

And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, 
Even on the instant. 

Oth. What is the matter, think you ? 

Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine : 
It is a business of some heat : the galleys 
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers 
This very night at one another's heels ; 
And many of the consuls,* raised and met, 
Are at the duke's already : you have been hotly called for ; 
When, being not at your lodging to be found, 



scene ii.] OTHELLO. 19 

The senate hath sent about three several quests'' 5 " 
To search you out. 

Oth. 'Tis well I am found by you. 

I will but spend a word here in the house, 
And go with you. [Exit. 

Cas. Ancient, what makes he here ? 

Iago. 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack :* 
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. 

Cas. I do not understand. 

I'ago. He's married. 

Cas. To who ? 

Iago. Marry, to — 

Re-enter Othello. 

Come, captain, will you go ? 
Oth. Have with you. 

Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you. 
Iago. It is Brabantio : general, be advised \f 
He comes to bad intent. 

Oth. Holla ! stand there ! 

Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches andweapons. 

Rod. Signior, it is the Moor. 

Bra. Down with him, thief! 

\_They draw on both sides. 

Iago. You, Roderigo ! come, sir, I am for you. 

Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. 
Good signior, you shall more command with years 
Than with your weapons. 

Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter ? 
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her ; 
For I'll refer me to all things of sense, 
If she in chains of magic were not bound, 
Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy, 
So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd 



20 OTHELLO. [act i. 

The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, 
Would ever have, to incur a general mock, 
Run from her guardage* to the sooty bosoqi 
Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight. 
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee 
For an abuser of the world, a practiser 
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. 
Lay hold upon him : if he do resist, 
Subdue him at his peril. 

Oth. Hold your hands, 

Both you of my inclining and the rest : 
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it 
Without a prompter. Where will you that I go 
To answer this your charge ? 

Bra. To prison, till fit time 

Of law and course of direct session 
Call thee to answer. 

Oth. What if I do obey ? 

How may the duke be therewith satisfied, 
Whose messengers are here about my side, 
Upon some present business of the state 
To bring me to him ? 

First Off. 'Tis true, most worthy signior ; 

The duke's in council, and your noble self, 
I am sure, is sent for. 

Bra. How ! the duke in council ! 

In this time of the night ! Bring him away : 
Mine's not an idle cause : the duke himself, 
Or any of my brothers of the state, 
Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own ; 
For if such actions may have passage free, 
Bond-slaves and pagans* shall our statesmen be. [Exeunt. 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 21 

Scene III. Another street. 

Enter three Senators, and Officers with torches. 

First Sen. There is no composition in these news 
That gives them credit. 

Sec. Sen. Indeed they are disproportion^ ; 

My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. 

Third Sen. And mine, a hundred and forty. 

First Sen. And mine, two hundred : 

And though they jump not on ajust account, — 
As in these cases, where the aim* reports, 
'Tis oft with difference, — yet do they all confirm 
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. 

Sec. Sen. Nay, it is possible enough to judgement : 
I do not so secure me in the error, 
But the main article I do approve 
In fearful sense. 

Sailor. \_Within\ What, ho ! what, ho ! what, ho ! 

Enter Second Officer with a torch, and a Sailor. 

Sec. Off. A messenger from the galleys. 

First Sen. Now, what's the business ? 

Sail. The. Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes ; 
So was I bid report to the state 
By signior Angelo. [Second Officer and Sailor pass on and Exeunt. 

Sec. Sen. How say you by this change ? 

First Sen. ' This cannot be, 

By no assay* of reason : 'tis a pageant 
To keep us in false gaze. When we consider 
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, 
And let ourselves again but understand 
That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, 
So may he with more facile question bear it, 
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,* 
But altogether lacks the abilities 



22 OTHELLO. [act i. 

That Rhodes is dress'd in : if we make thought of this, 
We must not think the Turk is so unskilful 
To leave that latest which concerns him first, 
Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, 
To wake and wage a danger profitless. 

Sec. Sen. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. 

\A noise within. 

First Sen. Here is more news. \_Exeunt. 



Scene IV. A Council chamber. 

The Duke and Senators sitting at a table , Oificers attending, a 
Messenger ; all discovered. 

Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, 
Steering with due course toward the isle df Rhodes, 
Have there injointed them with an after fleet. 

First Sen. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess ? 

Mess. Of thirty sail : and now they do re-stem 
Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance 
Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, 
Your trusty and most valiant servitor, 
With his free duty recommends you thus, 
And prays you to believe him. 

Duke. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus. 
Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town ? 

First Sen. He's now in Florence. 

Duke. Write from us to him ; post-post-haste despatch. 

First Sen. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. 

Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo and Officers. 

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you 
Against the general enemy Ottoman. 

[To Brabantio] I did not see you ; welcome, gentle signior ; 
We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night. 



scene iv.] OTHELLO. 23 

Bra. So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me ; 
Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business 
Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care 
Take hold on me ; for my particular grier 
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature 
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, 
And it is still itself. 

Duke. Why, what's the matter ? 

Bra. My daughter ! O, my daughter ! 

All. Dead ? 

Bra. Ay, to me; 

She is abused, stol'n from me and corrupted 
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks ; 
For nature so preposterously to err, 
Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, 
Sans witchcraft could not. 

Duke. Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding 
Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself 
And you of her, the bloody book of law 
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter 
After your own sense, yea, though our proper son 
Stood in your action. 

Bra. Humbly I thank your grace. 

Here is the man, this Moor ; whom now, it seems, 
Your special mandate for the state-affairs, 
Hath hither brought. 

All. m We are very sorry for't. 

Duke \_To Othello] What in your own part can you say to this ? 

Bra. Nothing, but this is so. 

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 
My very noble and approved good masters, 
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 
It is most true ; true, I have married her : 
The very head and front of my offending 
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, 



24 OTHELLO. [act i. 

And little blest with the soft phrase of peace ; 

For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, 

Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used 

Their dearest action in the tented field ; 

And little of this great world can I speak, 

More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ; 

And therefore little shall I grace my cause 

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, 

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 

Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, 

What conjuration and what mighty magic — 

For such proceeding I am charged withal — 

I won his daughter. 

Bra. A maiden never bold ; 

Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion 
Blush'd at herself; and she- — in spite of nature, 
Of years, of country, credit, every thing — 
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on ! 
It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect 
That will confess perfection so could err 
Against all rules of nature ; and must be driven 
To find out practices of cunning hell, 
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again, 
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, 
Or with some dram conjured to this effect, 
He wrought upon her. 

Duke. To vouch this, is no proof. 

But, Othello, speak : 
Did you by indirect and forced courses 
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections ? 
Or came it by request, and such fair question 
As soul to soul affordeth ? 

Oth. I do beseech you, 

Send for the lady to the Sagittary,* 
And let her speak of me before her father : 



scene iv.] OTHELLO. 25 

If you do find me foul in her report, 
The trust, the office I do hold of you, 
Not only take away, but let your sentence 
Even fall upon my life. 

Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither. 

Oth. Ancient, conduct them ; you best know the place. 

\_Exeunt lago and Attendants. 
And till she come, as truly as to heaven 
I do confess the vices of my blood, 
So justly to your grave ears I'll present 
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love 
And she in mine. 

Duke. Say it, Othello. 

Oth. Her father loved me, oft invited me, 
Still question'd me the story of my life 
From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, 
That I have pass'd. 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days 
To the very moment that he bade me tell it : 
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, 
Of moving accidents by flood and field, 
Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, 
Of being taken by the insolent foe, 
And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence, 
And portance* in my travel's history : 
Wherein of antres* vast and deserts idle,* 
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, 
It was my hint to speak, — such was the process ; 
And of the Cannibals that each other eat, 
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear 
Would Desdemona seriously incline : 
But still the house-affairs would draw her thence ; 
Which ever as she could with haste despatch, 
She 'Id come again, and with a greedy ear 



26 OTHELLO. [act i. 

Devour up my discourse :" which I observing, 

Took once a pliant hour, and found good means 

To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart 

That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 

Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 

But not intentively :* I did consent, 

And often did beguile her of her tears 

When I did speak of some distressful stroke 

That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, 

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : 

She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange ; 

'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : 

She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd 

That heaven had made her such a man :* she thank'd me, 

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 

I should but teach him how to tell my story, 

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake : 

She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, 

And I loved her that she did pity them. 

This only is the witchcraft I have used. 

Here comes the lady ; let her witness it. 

Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants. 

Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter too. 
Good Brabantio, 

Take up this mangled matter at the best : 
Men do their broken weapons rather use 
Than their bare hands. 

Bra. I pray you, hear her speak : 

1 ' — heaven had made her such a man? — A question has lately been raised whether 
the meaning here is that Desdemona wished such a man. had been made for her, or that 
she herself had been made such a man ; and several have insisted on the latter, lest 
the lady's delicacy should be impeached. Her delicacy, we hope, stands in need of no 
>uch critical attorneyship. Othello was, indeed, just such a man as she wanted, and 
ner letting him understand this was doubtless part of the hint whereon he spoke. — 
•-Judson. 



scene iv.] OTHELLO. 27 

If she confess that she was half the wooer, 
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame 
Light on the man ! Come hither, gentle mistress : 
Do you perceive in all this noble company 
Where most you owe obedience ? 

Des. My noble father, 

I do perceive here a divided duty : 
To you I am bound for life and education ; 
My life and education both do learn me 
How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty, 
I am hitherto your daughter : but here's my husband, 
And so much duty as my mother show'd 
To you, preferring you before her father, 
So much I challenge that I may profess 
Due to the Moor, my lord. 

Bra. God be with you ! I have done. 

Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs : 
Come hither, Moor : 

I here do give thee that with all my heart, 
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart 
I would keep from thee. 
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. 

Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for 
Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to 
you ; and though we have there a substitute of most allowed suf- 
ficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a 
more safer voice on. you : you must therefore be content to slub- 
ber* the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and 
boisterous expedition. 

Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, 
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war 
My thrice-driven bed* of down : I do agnize* 
A natural and prompt alacrity 
I find in hardness ; and do undertake 
These present wars against the Ottomites. 



28 OTHELLO. [act i. 

Most humbly therefore bending to your state, 
I crave fit disposition* for my wife, 
Due reference of place and exhibition,* 
With such accommodation and besort* 
As levels with her breeding. 

Duke. If you please, 

Be't at her father's. 

Bra. I'll not have it so. 

Oth. Nor I. 

Des. Nor I, I would not there reside, 

To put my father in impatient thoughts, 
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, 
To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear, 
And let me find a charter in your voice 
To assist my simpleness. 

Duke. What would you, Desdemona ? 

Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him, 
My downright violence and storm of fortunes 
May trumpet to the world : my heart's subdued 
Even to the very quality of my lord : 
I saw Othello's visage in his mind, 
And to his honours and his valiant parts 
Did I my, soul and fortunes consecrate. 
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, 
A moth of peace, and he go to the war, 
The rites for which I love him are bereft me, 
And I a heavy interim shall support 
By his dear absence. Let me go with him. 

Oth. Let her have your voices. 
And heaven defend your good souls, that you think 
I will your serious and great business scant 
For* she is with me. No, when light-wing'd toys 
Of feather'd Cupid seel* with wanton dulness 
My speculative and officed instruments, 
That my disports corrupt and taint my business, 



scene iv.] OTHELLO. x 29 

Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, 
And all indign and base adversities 
Make head against my estimation ! 

Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine, 
Either for her stay or going : the affair cries haste, 
And speed must answer 't ; you must hence to-night. 

Des. To-night, my lord ? 

Duke. This night. 

Oth. With all my heart. 

Duke. At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again. 
Othello, leave some officer behind, 
And he shall our commission bring to you ; 
With such things else of quality and respect 
As doth import to you. 

Oth. So please your grace, my ancient ; 

A man he is of honesty and trust : 
To his conveyance I assign my wife, 
With what else needful your good grace shall think 
To be sent after me. 

Duke. Let it be so. 

Good night to every one. [To Brabantio~\ And, noble signior, 
If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. 

[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, £sV. 

Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see : 
She has deceived her father, and may thee. 

Oth. My life upon her faith ! \_Exit Brabaniio. 

Honest lago, 
My Desdemona must I leave to thee : 
I prithee, let thy wife "attend on her ; 
And bring them after in the best advantage. 
Come, Desdemona ; I have but an hour 
Of love, of worldly matters and direction, 
To spend with thee : we must obey the time. 

[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. 



30 OTHELLO. [act i. 

Rod. Iago. 

Iago. What say'st thou, noble heart ? 

Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou ? 

Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep. 

Rod. I will incontinently drown myself. 

Iago. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou 
silly gentleman ! 

Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment ; and then 
have we a prescription to die when death is our physician. 

Iago. O villanous ! I have looked upon the world for four 
times seven years ; and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit 
and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. 
Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea- 
hen,* I would change my humanity with a baboon. 

Rod. What should I do ? I confess it is my shame to be so 
fond ;* but it is not in my virtue to amend it. 

Iago. Virtue ! a fig ! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. 
Come, be a man: drown thyself ! drown cats and blind puppies. 
I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy de- 
serving with cables of perdurable toughness: I could never better 
stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse ; follow thou the 
wars ; defeat* thy favour* with an usurped beard ; I say, put 
money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long 
continue her love to the Moor — put money in thy purse — nor he 
his to her : it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an 
answerable sequestration j* put but money in thy purse. These 
Moors are changeable in their wills :— fill thy purse with monev. 
If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than 
drowning. Make all the money thou canst : if sanctimony and 
a frail vow betwixt an erring* barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian 
be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt 
enjoy her ; therefore make money. A plague of drowning thy- 
self ! it is clean out of the way : seek thou rather to be hanged in 
compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her. 

Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue ? 



scene iv.] OTHELLO. 31 

Iago. Thou art sure of me : go, make money : I have told thee 
often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor : my 
cause is hearted ; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunc- 
tive in our revenge against him : if thou canst cuckold him, thou 
dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. There are many events 
in the womb of time, which will be delivered. Traverse;* go; 
provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. 
Adieu. 

Rod. Where shall we meet i' the morning ? 

Iago. At my lodging. 

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes. 

Iago. Go to ; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo ? 

Rod. What say you ? 

Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear. 

Rod. I am changed : I'll go sell all my land. [Exit. 

Iago. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse ; 
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane, 
If I would time expend with such a snipe 
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor ; 
And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets 
He has done my office : I know not if 't be true ; 
But I for mere suspicion in that kind 
Will do as if for surety. He holds me well ; 
The better shall my purpose work on him. 
Cassio's a proper man : let me see now ; 
To get his place, and to plume up my will 
A double knavery — How, how ? — Let's see : — 
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear, 
That he is too familiar with his wife. 
He hath a person and a smooth dispose 
To be suspected ; framed to make women false. 
The Moor is of a free and open nature, 
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so ; 
And will as tenderly be led by the nose 
As asses are.* 



32 07 HELLO. [act ii. 

I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night 

Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. [Exit. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near 
the quay. 

Enter Montano and Cassio. 

Gas. Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle, 
That so approve the Moor ! O, let the heavens 
Give him defence against the elements, 
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea. 

Mon. Is he well shipp'd ? 

Cas. His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot 
Of very expert and approved allowance ; 
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, 
Stand in bold cure. 

\_A cry within :] c A sail, a sail, a sail !' 

Enter a Gentleman. 

Cas. What noise ? 

Gent. The town is empty ; on the brow o' the sea 
Stand ranks of people, and they cry c A sail.' 

Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor. [Guns heard. 

Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy : 
Our friends at least. 

Cas. I pray you, sir, go forth, 

And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. 

Gent. I shall. [Exit. 

Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wived ? 

Cas. Most fortunately : he hath achieved a maid 
That paragons description and wild fame ; 
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 33 

And in the essential vesture of creation 
Does tire the ingener.* 

Re-enter- Gentleman. 

How now ! who has put in ? 

Gent. 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. 

Cas. He has had most favourable and happy speed : 
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, 
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, 
Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, 
As having sense of beauty, do omit 
Their mortal* natures, letting go safely by 
The divine Desdemona. 

Mon. What is she ? 

Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's captain, 
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago ; 
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts 
A se'nnight's speed. O, behold, 
The riches of the ship is come on shore ! 
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. 

Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, and Attendants. 

Hail to thee, lady ! and the grace of heaven, 
Before, behind thee, and on every hand, 
Enwheel thee round ! 

Des. . I thank you, valiant Cassio. 

What tidings can. you tell me of my lord ? 

Cas. He is not yet arrived : nor know I aught 
But that he's well and will be shortly here. 

Des. O, but I fear — How lost you company ? 

Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies 
Parted our fellowship — \_A cry within : ' A sail, a sail !'] But, 
hark ! a sail. [Guns heard.~\ 

Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel : 
This likewise is a friend. 
2* 



34 OTHELLO. [act ii. 

Cas. See for the news. [Exit Gentleman. 

Good ancient, you are welcome. [To Em.'] Welcome, mistress : 
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago. 
That I extend my manners ; 'tis my breeding 
That gives me this bold show of courtesy. [Kissing her. 

Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips 
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, 
You'ld have enough. 

Des. Alas, she has no speech. 

Iago. In faith, too much ; 
I find it still when I have list to sleep : 
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, 
She puts her tongue a little in her heart 
And chides with thinking. 

Emil. You have little cause to say so. 

Iago. Come on, come on ; you are pictures out of doors, 
Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your kitchens, 
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended. 

Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer ! 

Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk : 

Emil. You shall not write my praise. 

Iago. No, let me not. 

Des. Whatwouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me ? 

Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to't ; 
For I am nothing if not critical.* 

Des. Come on, assay — There's one gone to the harbour ? 

Iago. Ay, madam. 

Des. I am not merry ; but I do beguile 
The thing I am by seeming otherwise. — 

But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman 
indeed, one that in the authority of her merit did justly put on the 
vouch of very malice itself? 1 

1 " — one that in the authority of her merit did put on the -vouch of very malice itself?' 
That is, one that was so conscious of her own merit, and of the authority her character 
had with every one, that she durst venture to call upon malice to vouch for her. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 35 

lago, I am about it ; but indeed my invention 
Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize ; 
It plucks out brains and all : but my Muse labours, 
And thus she is deliver'd. 
She that was ever fair and never proud, 
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, 
Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay, 
Fled from her wish and yet said, ' Now I may ;' 
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, 
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly'; 
She that in wisdom never was so frail 
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail \ 
She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind, 
See suitors following and not look behind ; 
She was a wight,* if ever such wight were, — 

Des. To do what ? 

Iago. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. 2 

Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion ! Do not learn of 
him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? 
is he not a most profane* and liberal* counsellor ? 

Cas. He speaks home, madam : you may relish him more in 
the soldier than in the scholar. 

Iago. \_Aside] He takes her by the palm : ay, well said, whis- 
per : with as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as 
Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do ; I will gyve* thee in*thine own 
courtship.* You say true ; 'tis so, indeed : if such tricks as 
these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you 
had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are 
most apt to play the sir in. [Trumpet within .] The Moor ! I 
know his trumpet. 

Cas. 'Tis truly so. 

1 * To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail* — That is, the better for the worse. 
The head is the best part of the cod, the tail the worst of the salmon. 

2 * To suckle fools and chronicle small beer,'' — That is, to suckle children and keep the 
accounts of the household. 



36 OTHELLO. [act ii. 

Des. Let's meet him and receive him. 
Cas. Lo, where he comes ! 

Enter Othello and Attendants. 

Oth. O my fair warrior I 1 

Des. My dear Othello ! 

Oth. It gives me wonder great as my content 
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy ! 
If after every tempest come such calms, 
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death ! 
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas 
Olympus-high and duck again as low 
As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die, 
'Twere now to be most happy ; for I fear, 
My soul hath her content so absolute 
That not another comfort like to this 
Succeeds in unknown fate. 

Des. The heavens forbid 

But that our loves and comforts should increase, 
Even as our days do grow. 

Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers ! 

I cannot speak enough of this content; 
It stops me here; it is too much of joy : 

And this, and this, the greatest discords be [Kissing her. 

That e'er«our hearts shall make ! 

1 ' my fair warrior? — The term ivarrior applied to a lady is somewhat startling. 
In the third act Desdemona says of herself, 'Unhandsome ivarrior that I am.' 
Steevens says that it was a term of endearment which we derive from the old French 
poets, and that Ronsard, in his sonnets, frequently calls the ladies guerrieres. But we 
can not avoid thinking that Othello playfully salutes his wife as a warrior in compliment 
to her resolution not to 

' be left behind, 

A moth of peace, and he. go to the war.' 

When Desdemona repeats the word in the third Act, the name which her husband 
has given her may, in the same manner, be floating in her memory. We have no 
parallel use of the word in Shakespeare. — Knight. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 37 

Iago. \Aside\ O, you are well tuned now ! 

But I'll set down the pegs that make this music, 
As honest as I am. 

Oth. Come, let us to the castle. 

News, friends ; our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd. 
How does my old acquaintance of this isle ? 
Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus ; 
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, 
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote 
In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, 
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers 
Bring thou the master to the citadel ; 
He is a good one, and his worthiness 
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona, 
Once more well met at Cyprus. \_Exeunt all but Iago and Rod. 

Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come 
hither. If.thou be'st valiant — as, they say, base men being in 
love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to 
them — list me. The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of 
guard. First, I must tell thee this : Desdemona is directly in 
love with him. 

Rod. Wkh him ! why, 'tis not possible. 

Iago. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. 
Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, but 
for bragging and telling her fantastical lies : and will she love him 
still for prating ? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye 
must be fed ; and. what delight shall she have to look on the 
devil ? 

Rod. I cannot believe that in her ; she's full of most blessed 
condition.* 

Iago. Blessed fig's-end ! the wine she drinks is made of grapes : 
if she had been blest, she would never have loved the Moor : 
blest pudding ! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of 
his hand ? didst not mark that ? 

Rod. Yes, that I did ; but that was but courtesy. 



38 OTHELLO. [act ii. 

Iago. Lechery, by this hand ; an index and obscure prologue to 
the history of lust and foul thoughts. But, sir, be you ruled by 
me: I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night ; for 
the command, I'll lay't upon you : Cassio knows you not : I'll 
not be far from you : do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, 
either by speaking too loud or tainting his discipline, or from 
what other course you please, which the time shall more favour- 
ably minister. 

Rod. Well. 

Iago. Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may 
strike at you : provoke him, that he may ; for even out of that 
will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny ; whose qualification 
shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of 
Cassio. 

Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. 

Iago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by : I must fetch his 
necessaries ashore. Farewell. 

Rod. Adieu. [Exit. 

Iago. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it ; 
That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit : 
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, 
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature ; 
And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona 
A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too, 
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure 
I stand accountant for as great a sin, 
But partly led to diet my revenge, 
For that I do suspecl: the lusty Moor 
Hath leap'd into my seat : the thought whereof 
Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards ; 
And nothing can or shall content my soul 
Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife; 
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor 
At least into a jealousy so strong 
That judgement cannot cure. Which thing to do, 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 39 

If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash* 

For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 

I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, 

Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb ; 

For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too; 

Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me, 

For making him egregiously an ass 

And practising upon his peace and quiet 

Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused : 

Knavery's plain face is never seen till used. [Exit. 



Scene II. A street. 

Enter a Herald, with a proclamation $ People following. 

Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, 
that upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere* per- 
dition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph ; 
some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport 
and revels his addiction leads him : for, besides these beneficial 
news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much was his 
pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there 
is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the 
bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our 
noble general Othello ! [Exeunt. 



Scene III. The same as scene first. 

Enter Othello, Cassio, and Attendants. 

Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night : 
Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop, 
Not to outsport discretion. 

Cas. Iago hath direction what to do ; 



40 OTHELLO. [act ii. 

But notwithstanding with my personal eye 
Will I look to't. 

Oth. I a g° is most honest. 

Michael, good-night: to-morrow with your earliest 
Let me have speech with you. Good-night. 

[Exeunt Othello and Attendants. 

Enter Iago. 

Cas. Welcome, Iago : we must to the watch 

Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant ; 'tis not yet ten o' the clock. 
Our general cast* us thus early for the love of his Desdemona ; 
who let us not therefore blame : he hath not yet made wanton the 
night with her, and she is sport for Jove. 

Cas. She's a most exquisite lady. 

Iago. What an eye she has ! methinks it sounds a parley to 
provocation. 

Cas. An inviting eye ; and yet methinks right modest. 

Iago. And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love ? 

Cas. She is indeed perfection. 

Iago. Well, happiness to their sheets ! Come, lieutenant, I 
have a -stoop of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus 
gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of the black 
Othello. 

Cas. Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and unhappy 
brains for drinking": I could well w T ish courtesy would invent 
some other custom of entertainment. 

Iago. O, they are our friends ; but one cup : I'll drink for you. 

Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily 
qualified too, and behold what innovation it makes here : I am 
unfortunate in the infirmity and dare not task my weakness with 
any more. 

Iago. What, man ! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants desire it. 

Cas. Where are they ? 

Iago. Here at the door ; I pray you, call them in. 

Cas. I'll do't ; but it dislikes me. • [Exit. 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 41 

lago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, 
With that which he hath drunk to-night already, 
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence 

As my young mistress' dog. Now my sick fool, Roderigo, 
Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, 
To Desdemona hath to-night caroused 
Potations pottle-deep ; and he's to watch : 
Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, 
That hold their honours in a wary distance, 
The very elements of this warlike isle, 
Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups, 
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards, . 
Am I to put our Cassio in some action 
That may offend the isle. \_Loud laughing within.'] But here 

they come: 
If consequence do but approve my dream, 
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. 

Re-enter Cassio -, with him Montano and Gentlemen ; Servants 
following with wine. 
Cas. 'Fore heaven, they have given me a rouse* already. 
Mon. Good faith, a little one ; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. 
lago. Some wine, ho ! 
\_Sings\ And let me the canakin* clink, clink ; 

And let me the canakin clink : 
A soldier's a man ; 
A life's but a span ; 
Why then let a soldier drink. 
Some wine, boys ! 

Cas. 'Fore heaven, an excellent song. 

lago. I learned it in England, where indeed they are most 
potent in potting : your Dane, your German, and your swag- 
bellied Hollander, — Drink, ho! — are nothing to your English. 
Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? 
lago. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk ; 



42 OTHELLO. [act ii. 

he sweats not to overthrow your Almain ; he gives vour Hollander 
a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled. 
Cas. To the health of our general. 
Mon. I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice. 
lago. O sweet England ! 
[Sings'] King Stephen was a worthy peer, 

His breeches cost him but a crown ; 
He held them sixpence all too dear, 
With that he called the tailor lown.* 

He was a wight* of high renown, 
And thou art but of low degree : 
'Tis pride that pulls the country down ; 
Then take thine auld cloak about thee. 
Some wine, ho ! 

Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. 

lago. Will you hear't again ? 

Cas. No ; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does 
those things. Well : heaven's above all ; and there be souls that 
must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. 

lago. It's true, good lieutenant. 

Cas. For mine own part — no offence to the general, nor any 
man of quality — I hope to be saved. 

lago. And so do I too, lieutenant. 

Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me ; the lieutenant is 
to be saved before the ancient. Let's have no more of this; 
let's to our affairs. Forgive us our sins ! Gentlemen, let's look 
to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk: this is 
my ancient : this is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not 
drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough. 

All. Excellent well. 

Cas. Why, very well then ; you must not think then that I 
am drunk. [Exit, 

Mon. To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch. 

[lago calls Mont a no back $ the rest exeunt. 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 43 

Iago. You see this fellow that is gone before ; 
He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar 
And give direction : and do but see his vice ; 
'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, 
The one as long as the other : 'tis pity of him. 
I fear the trust Othello puts him in 
On some odd time of his infirmity 
Will shake this island. 

Mon. But is he often thus ? 

Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep : 
He'll watch the horologe* a double set, 
If drink rock not his cradle. 

Mon. It were well 

The general were put in mind of it. 
Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature 
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio 
And looks not on his evils : is not this true ? 
Enter Roderigo. 

Iago. \_dside to hint] How now, Roderigo ! 
I pray you, after the lieutenant ; go. [Exit Roderigo. 

Mon. And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor 
Should hazard such a place as his own second ' 
With one of an ingraft* infirmity. 
It were an honest a£tion to say 
So to the Moor. 

Iago. Not I, for this fair island : 

I do love Cassio well, and would do much 

To cure him of this evil : — \_A noise within.~] But hark ! what 
noise ? \_A cry within : c Help! help !' 

Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo. 
Cas. 'Zounds ! you rogue ! you rascal ! 
Mon. What's the matter, lieutenant ? 

Cas. A knave teach me my duty ! But I'll beat the knave into 
a twiggen* bottle. 



44 OTHELLO. [act ii. 

Rod. Beat me ! 

Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue ? [Striking Roderigo. 

Mon. Nay, good lieutenant ; I pray you, sir, hold your hand. 

Cas. Let me go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. 

Mon. Come, come, you're drunk. 

Cas. Drunk! [They fight. 

Iago. [Aside to Roderigo'] Away, I say \ go out, and cry a 
mutiny. [Exit Roderigo. 

Nay, good lieutenant ! alas, gentlemen ! 
Help, ho ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano — sir; — 
Help, masters ! — Here's a goodly watch indeed ! [A bell rings. 
Who's that that rings the bell? — Diablo, ho ! 
The town will rise : fie, fie, lieutenant, hold ! 
You will be shamed for ever. 

Enter Othello, and Attendants. 

Oth. What is the matter here ? 

Mon. 'Zounds, I bleed still ; I am hurt to the death. [Faints. 

Oth. Hold, for your lives ! 

Iago. Hold, ho ! Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — gentlemen, — 
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty ? 
Hold ! the general speaks to you ; hold, hold, for shame ! 

Oth. Why, how now, ho ! from whence ariseth this ? 
Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that 
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites ? 
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl : 
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage 
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. 
Silence that dreadful bell ! it frights the isle 
From her propriety. [Exit an Attendant.~\ What is the matter, 

masters ? 
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving, 
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. 

Iago. I do not know : friends all but now, even now, 
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 45 

Divesting them for bed; and then, but* now, 
As if some planet had unwitted men, 
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast, 
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak 
"Any beginning to this peevish odds ; 
And would in action glorious I had lost 
Those legs that brought me to a part of it ! 

Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot ? 

Cas. I pray you, pardon me ; I cannot speak. 

Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be civil ; 
The gravity and stillness of your youth 
The world hath noted, and your name is great 
In mouths of wisest censure : what's the matter, 
That you unlace your reputation thus, 
And spend your rich opinion* for the name 
Of a night-brawler ? give me answer to it. 

Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger : 
Your officer, Iago, can inform you — 

While I spare speech, which something now offends me — 
Of all that I -do know: nor know I aught 
By me that's said or done amiss this night ; 
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, 
And to defend ourselves it be a sin 
When violence assails us. 

Oth. Now, by heaven, 

My blood begins my safer guides to rule, 
And passion, having my best judgment collied,* 
Assays to lead the way : if I once stir, 
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you 
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know 
How this foul rout began, who set it on, 
And he that is approved in this offence, 
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, 
Shall lose me. What ! in a town of war, 
Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, 



46 OTHELLO. [act u. 

To manage private and domestic quarrel, 

In night, and on the court and guard of safety ! 

'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't ? 

Mon. If partially affined, or leagued in office, 
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, 
Thou art no soldier. 

Iago. Touch me not so near: 

I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth 
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio \ 
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth 
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general. 
Montano and myself being in speech, 
There comes a fellow crying out for help, 
And Cassio following him with determined sword, 
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman 
Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause : 
Myself the crying fellow did pursue, 
Lest by his clamour— as it so fell out — 
The town might fall in fright : he, swift of foot, 
Outran my purpose ; and I return'd the rather 
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, 
And Cassio high in oath ; which till to-night 
I ne'er might say before. When I came back — 
For this was brief — I found them close together, 
At blow and thrust ; even as again they were 
When you yourself did part them. 
More of this matter can I not report : 
But men are men ; the best sometimes forget : 
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, 
As men in rage strike those that wish them best, 
Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received 
From him that fled some strange indignity, 
Which patience could not pass. 

Oth. I know, Iago, 

Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 47 

Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee ; 

But never more be officer of mine. 

Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon ; 

Lead him off. \T~o Montano, who is led off. 

Iago, look with care about the town, 

And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. 

. \_Exeunt all but Iago and Cassio. 

Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant ? 

Cas. Ay, past all surgery. 

Iago. Marry, heaven forbid! 

Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation ! O, I have lost my 
reputation ! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what 
remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation ! 

Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received 
some bodily wound ; there is more sense in that than in repu- 
tation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition ; oft got 
■without merit and lost without deserving : you have lost no repu- 
tation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, 
man ! there are ways to recover the general again : you are but 
now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in 
malice ; even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright 
an imperious lion : sue to him again, and he's yours. 

Cas. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a 
commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. 
Drunk ? and speak parrot ? and squabble ? swagger ? swear ? and 
discourse fustian with one's own shadow ? O thou invisible spirit 
of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee 
devil ! 

Iago. What was he that you followed with your sword ? What 
had he done to you ? 

Cas. I know not. 

Iago. Is't possible ? 

Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly, a 
quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O, that men should put an 
enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains ! that we should, 



48 OTHELLO. [act n. 

with joy, pleasure, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into 
beasts ! 

lago. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus 
recovered ? 

Cas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the 
devil wrath : one imperfectness shows me another, to make me 
frankly despise myself. 

Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler : as the time, the 
place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily 
wish this had not befallen ; but since it is as it is, mend it for 
your own good. 

Cas. I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell me I am 
a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer 
would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a 
fool, and presently a beast ! O strange ! Every inordinate cup is 
unblest, and the ingredient is a devil. 

Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it 
be well used : exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, 
I think you think I love you. * 

Cas. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk ! 

Iago. You or any man living may be drunk at some time, man. 
I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the 
general. I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted 
and given up himself to the contemplation, mark and denotement* 
of her parts and graces : confess yourself freely to her ; impor- 
tune her help to put you in your place again : she is of so free, so 
kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her 
goodness not to do more than she is requested : this broken joint 
between you and her husband entreat her to splinter ; and, my 
fortunes against any lay* worth naming, this crack of your love 
shall grow stronger than it was before. 

Cas. You advise me well. 

Iago. I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. 

Cas. I think it freely ; and betimes in the morning I will beseech 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 49 

the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am desperate of 
my fortunes if they check me here. 

lago. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant ; I must 
to the watch. 

Cas. Good night, honest lago. [Exit. 

lago. And what's he then that says I play the villain ? 
When this advice is free I give and honest, 
Probal* to thinking, and indeed the course 
To win the Moor again ? £Iow am I then a villain 
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, 
Directly to his good ? Divinity of hell ! 
When devils will their blackest sins put on,* 
They do suggest* at first with heavenly shows, 
As I do now : for whiles this honest fool 
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes, 
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, 
Pll pour this pestilence into his ear, 
That she repeals* him for her body's lust ; 
And by how much she strives to do him good, 
She shall undo her credit with the Moor. 
So will I turn her virtue into pitch ; 
And out of her own goodness make the net 
That shall enmesh them all. — 

Enter Roderigo. 

How now, Roderigo ! 

Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that 
hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent ; 
I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled ; and I think the 
issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains ; and 
so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return to Venice. 

lago. How poor are they that have not patience ! 
What wound did ever heal but by degrees ? 
Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft, 
And wit depends on dilatory time. 



50 OTHELLO. [act in, 

Does't not go well ? Cassio hath beaten thee, 

And thou by that ''small hurt hast cashier' d Cassio : 

Though other things grow fair against the sun, 

Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe : 

Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning ; 

Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. 

Retire thee ; go where thou art billeted : 

Away, I say ; thou shalt know more hereafter : 

Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Roderigo.j Two things are to be done : 

My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress ; 

I'll set her on ; 

Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, 

And bring him jump* when he may Cassio find 

Soliciting his wife : ay, that's the way ; 

Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. The garden of the castle. 
Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia discovered. 

Des. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do 
All my abilities in thy behalf. 

Emil. Good madam, do : I know it grieves my husband 
As if the case were his. 

Des. O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, 
But I will have my lord and you again 
As friendly as you were. 

Cas. Bounteous madam, 

Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, 
He's never any thing but your true servant. 

Des. I know't ; I thank you. You do love my lord : 
You have known him long ; and be you well assured 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 51 

He shall in strangeness stand no farther off 
Than in a politic distance. 

Cas. Ay, but, lady, 

That policy may either last so long, 
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, 
Or breed itself so out of circumstance, 
That, I being absent and my place supplied, 
My general will forget my love and service. 

Des. Do not doubt that ; before Emilia here 
I give thee warrant of thy place : assure thee, 
If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it 
To the last article : my lord shall never rest ; 
I'll watch* him tame and talk him out of patience \ 
I'll intermingle every thing he does 
With Cassio's suit : therefore be merry, Cassio ; 
For thy solicitor shall rather die 
Than give thy cause away. 

Enter Othello and Iago, at a distance. 

Em'il. Madam, here comes my lord. 

Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave. 

Des. Nay, stay and hear me speak. 

Cas. Madam, not now : I am very ill at ease, 
Unfit for mine own purposes. 

Des. Well, do your discretion. \_Exit Cassio. 

Iago. Ha ! I like not that. 

Oth. What dost thou say ? 

Iago. Nothing, my lord : or if — I know not what. 

Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife ? 

Iago. Cassio, my lord ? No, sure, I cannot think it, 
That he would steal away so guilty-like, 
Seeing you coming. 

Oth. I do believe 'twas he. 

Des. How now, my lord ! 
I have been talking with a suitor here, 



52 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

A man that languishes in your displeasure. 

Oth. Who is't you mean ? 

Des. Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord, 
If I have any grace or power to move you, 
His present reconciliation take ; 
For if he be not one that truly loves you, 
That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,* 
I have no judgement in an honest face : 
I prithee, call him back. 

Oth. Went he hence now ? 

Des. Ay, sooth ; so humbled, 
That he hath left part of his grief with me, 
I suffer with him. Good love, call him back. 

Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona ; some other time. 

Des. But shall't be shortly ? 

Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you. 

Des. Shall't be to-night at supper ? 

Oth. No, not to-night. 

Des. To-morrow dinner then ?. 

Oth. I shall not dine at home ; 

I meet the captains at the citadel. 

Des. Why then to-morrow night ; or Tuesday morn ; 
On Tuesday noon, or night ; on Wednesday morn : 
I prithee nam£ the time j but let it not 
Exceed three days. When shall he come ? 
Tell me, Othello : I wonder in my soul, 
What you could ask me, that I should deny, 
Or stand so mammering* on. What ! Michael Cassio, 
That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time 
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly 
Hath ta'en your part ; to have so much to do 
To bring him in ! Trust me, I could do much — 

Oth. Prithee, no more : let him come when he will ; 
I will deny thee nothing. 

Des. Why, this is not a boon ; 



scene i.] OTHELLO. s: 

'Tis as I should entreat you wear your glomes, 
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, 
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit 
To your ov/n person : nay, when I have a suit 
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, 
It shall he full of poise* and difficult weight, 
And fearful to be granted. 

Oth. I will deny thee nothing : 

Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, 
To leave me but a little to myself. 

Des. Shall I deny you ? no : farewell-, my lord. 

Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona : I'll come to thee straight. 

Des. Emilia, come : Be as your fancies teach you ; 
Whate'er you be, I am obedient. [Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia 

Oth. Excellent wretch !* Perdition catch my soul, 
But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not, 
Chaos is come again. 

lago. My noble lord, — 

Oth. What dost thou say, lago ? 

lago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady, 
Know of your love ? 

Oth. He did, from first to last : why dost thou ask ? 

lago. But for a satisfaction of my thought ; 
No further harm. 

Oth. Why of thy thought, lago ? 

lago. I did not think he had been acquainted with her. 

Oth. O, yes ; and went between us very oft. 

lago. Indeed ! 

Oth. Indeed ! ay, indeed : discern'st thou aught in that ? 
Is he not honest ? 

lago. Honest, my lord ! 

Oth. Honest ! ay, honest. 

lago. My lord, for aught I know. 

Oth. What dost thou think ? 

lago. Think, my lord ? 



54 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

Oth. Think, my lord ! By heaven, he echoes me, 
As if there were some monster in his thought 
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something : 
I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that, 
When Cassio left my wife : what didst not like ? 
And when I told thee he was of my counsel 
In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst c Indeed ! ' 
And didst contract and purse thy brow together, 
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain 
Some horrible conceit : if thou dost love me, 
Show me thy thought. 

Iago. My lord, you know I love you. 

Oth. I think thou dost j 

And for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty 
And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath, 
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more : 
For such things in a false disloyal knave 
Are tricks of custom ; but in a man that's just 
They're close delations,* working from the heart, 
That passion cannot rule. 

Iago. For Michael Cassio, 

I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. 

Oth. I think so too. 

Iago. Men should be what they seem ; 

Or those that be not, would they might seem none ! 

Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem. 

Iago. Why then I think Cassio's an honest man. 

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this : 
I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, 
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts 
The worst of words. 

Iago. Good my lord, pardon me : 

Though I am bound to every a£t of duty, 
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. 
Utter my thoughts ? Why, say they are vile and false ; 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 55 

As where's that palace whereinto foul things 
Sometimes intrude not ? 

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, 
If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear 
• A stranger to thy thoughts. 

Iago. I do beseech you — 

Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, 
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague 
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy 
Shapes faults that are not — that your wisdom yet, 
From one that so imperfectly conje&s* 
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble 
Out of his scattering and unsure observance. 
It were not for your quiet nor your good, 
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, 
To let you know my thoughts. 

Oth. What dost thou mean ? 

Iago. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, 
Is the immediate jewel of their souls : 

Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis somethings nothing ; 
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; 
But he that filches from me my good name 
Robs me of that which not enriches him 
And makes me poor indeed. 

Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts. 

Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand ; 
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. 

Oth. Ha! 

Iago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy ; 

It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock 
The meat it feeds on : that cuckold lives in bliss 
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger ; 
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er 
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves ! 

Oth, O misery ! 



5-5 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

lago. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough ; 
But riches fineless"" is as poor as winter 
To him that ever fears he shall be poor : 
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend 
From jealousy ! 

Oth. Why, why is this ? 

Think'st thou Pld make a life of jealousy, 
To follow still the changes of the moon 
With fresh suspicions ? No ; to be once in doubt 
Is once to be resolved : exchange me for a goat, 
When I shall turn the business of my soul 
To such exsumicate" x " and blown surmises, 
Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous 
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, 
Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well ; 
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous : 
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 
The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt ; 
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, lago ; 
I'll see before I*doubt ; when I doubt, prove ; 
And on the proof, there is no more but this, 
Away at once with love or jealousy. 

lago. I am glad of it ; for now I shall have reason 
To show the love and duty that I bear you 
With franker spirit : therefore, as I am bound, 
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. 
Look to your wife ; observe her well with Cassio ; 
Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure : 
I would not have your free and noble nature 
Out of self-bounty* be abused ; look to't : 
I know our country disposition well ; 
In, Venice they do let heaven see the pranks 
They dare not show their husbands ; their best conscience 
Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown. 
Oth. Dost thou say so ? 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 57 

Iago.- She did deceive her father, marrying you ; 
And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks, 
She loved them most. 

Oth. And so she did. 

Iago. Why, go to then ; 

She that so young could give out such a seeming, 
To seel* her father's eyes up close as oak — 
He thought 'twas witchcraft — but I am much to blame ; 
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon 
For too much loving you. 

Oth. I am bound to thee for ever. 

Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. 

Oth. Not a jot, not a jot. 

Iago. Tfaith, I fear it has. 

I hope you will consider what is spoke 
Comes from my love ; but I do see you're moved : 
I am to pray you not to strain my speech 
To grosser issues nor to larger reach 
/Than to suspicion. 

Oth. I will not. 

Iago. Should you do so, my lord, 

My speech should fall into such vile success'* 
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend — 
My lord, I see you're moved. 

Oth. No, not much moved : 

I do not think but Desdemona's honest. 

Iago, Long live she so ! and long live you to think so ! 

Oth. And yet, how nature erring* from-itself — 

Iago. Ay, there's the point : as— to be bold with you — 
Not to affect many proposed matches 
Of her own clime, complexion and degree, 
Whereto we see in all things nature tends — 
Foh ! one may smell in such a will most rank, 
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. 
But pardon me : I do not in position 
3* 



58 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

Distinctly speak of her ; though I may fear 
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, 
May fall to match you with her country forms, 
And happily repent. 

Oth. Farewell, farewell : 

If more thou dost perceive, let me know more ; 
Set on thy wife to observe : leave me, lago. 

Iago. \_Going~\ My lord, I take my leave. [Exit. 

Oth. Why did I marry ? This honest creature doubtless 
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. 

Re-enter Iago. 

Iago. My lord, I would I might entreat your honour 
To scan* this thing no further ; leave it to time : 
Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, 
For sure he fills it up with great ability, 
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, 
You shall by that perceive him and his means : 
Note if your lady strain his entertainment'* 
With any strong or vehement importunity ; 
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, 
Let me be thought too busy in my fears — 
As worthy cause I have to fear I am — 
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour. 

Oth. Fear not my government. 

Iago. I once more take my leave. \_Extt 

Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, 
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, 
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,* 
Though that her jesses* were my dear heart-strings, 
I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind 
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black 
And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That chamberers* have, or for I am declined 
Into the vale of years, — yet that's not much — 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 59 

She's gone ; I am abused, and my relief 

Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, 

That we can call these delicate creatures ours, 

And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad, 

And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, 

Than keep a corner in the thing I love 

For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones ; 

Prerogatived are they less than the base ; 

'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death : 

Even then this forked* plague is fated to us 

When we do quicken.* Desdemona comes : 

If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! 

I'll not believe't. 

Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia. 

Des. How now, my dear Othello ! 

Your dinner, and the generous islanders 
By you invited, do attend your presence. 

Oth. I am to blame. 

Des. Why do you speak so faintly ? 
Are you not well ? 

Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here. 

Des. Faith, that's with watching ; 'twill away again : 
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour 
It will be wdl. 

Oth. Your napkin* is too little ; 

\_He puts the handkerchief from him , and she drops it. 
Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. 

Des. I am very sorry that you are not well. 

\_Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. 

Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin : 
This was her first remembrance from the Moor : 
My wayward husband hath a hundred times 
Woo'd me to steal it ; but she so loves the token, 
For he conjured her she should ever keep it, 



60 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

That she reserves it evermore about her 

To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,* 

And give't lago : what he will«do with it 

Heaven knows, not I ; 

I nothing but to please his fantasy. >. 

Re-enter Iago. 

Iago. How now ! what do you do here alone ? 

Emil. Do not you chide ; I have a thing for you. 

Iago. A thing for me ? it is a common thing — 

Emil. Ha ! 

Iago. To have a foolish wife. 

Emil. O, is that all ? What will you give me now 
For that same handkerchief ? 

Iago. What handkerchief? 

Emil. What handkerchief! 
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ; 
That which so often you did bid me steal. 

Iago. Hast stol'n it from her ? 

Emil. No, faith ; she let it drop by negligence, 
And, to the advantage, I being here took't up. 
Look, here it is. 

Iago. A good wench j* give it me. , 

Emil. What will you do with't, that you have been so earnest 
To have me filch it ? 

Iago. \_Snatching it] Why, what's that to you? 

Emil. If 't be not for some purpose of import, 
Give't me again : poor lady, she'll run mad 
When she shall lack it. 

Iago, Be not acknown* on't ; I have use for it. 
Go, leave me. [Exit Emilia. 

I will i"n Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, 
And let him find it. Trifles light as air 
Are to the jealous confirmations strong 
As proofs of holy writ : this may do something. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 61 

The Moor already changes with my poison : 

Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons, 

Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, 

But with a little aft upon the blood 

Burn like the mines of sulphur. I did say so : 

Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora,* 

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 

Which thou owedst* yesterday. 

Enter Othello. 

Oth. Ha ! ha ! false to me ? 

lago. Why, how now, general ! no more of that. 

Oth. Avaunt ! be gone ! thou hast set me on the rack : 
I swear 'tis better to be much abused 
Than but to know't a little. 

lago. How now, my lord ! 

Oth. What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust ? 
I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me : 
I slept the next night well, was free and merry ; 
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips : 
He that is robb'd, n<5t wanting what is stol'n, 
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all. 

lago. I am sorry to hear this. 

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, 
Pioners* and all, had tasted her sweet body, 
So I had nothing known. O, now for ever 
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! 
Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars 
That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell, 
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
The royal banner and all quality, 
Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war ! 
And, O you mortal engines," whose rude throats 



62 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, 
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! 

Iago. Is't possible, my lord ? 

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a drab ; 
Be sure of it ; give me the ocular proof; 
Or, by the worth of man's eternal soul, 
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog. 
Than answer my waked wrath ! 

Iago. Is't come to this ? 

Oth. Make me to see't ; or at least so prove it, 
* 
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop 

To hang a doubt on ; or woe upon thy life ! 

Iago. My noble lord, — 

Oth. If thou dost slander her and torture me, 
Never pray more ; abandon all remorse j* 
On horror's head horrors accumulate ; 
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed ; 
For nothing canst thou to damnation add 
Greater than that. 

Iago. O grace ! O heaven defend me ! 

Are you a man ? have you a soul or sense ? 
God be wi' you ; take mine office. O wretched fool, 
That livest to make thine honesty a vice ! 

monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O wor J, 
To be direct and honest is not safe. 

1 thank you for this profit, and from hence 

I'll love no friend sith love breeds such offence. 

Oth. Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. 

Iago. I should be wise ; for honesty's a fool, 
And loses that it works for. 

Oth. By the world, 

I think my wife be honest, and think she is not ; 
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not : 
I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh 
As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 63 

As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, 

Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, 

I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied ! 

lago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion : 
I do repent me that I put it to you. 
You would be satisfied ? 

Oth. Would ! nay, I will. 

Iago. And may : but, how ? how satisfied, my lord ? 
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on ? 
Behold fier- 
ce. Death and damnation ! O ! 

Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, 
To bring them to that prospect : damn them then, 
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster 
More than their own ! What then ? how then ? 
What shall I say ? Where's satisfaction ? 
If imputation and strong circumstances, 
Which lead directly to the door of truth, 
Will give you satisfaction, you may have't. 

Oth. Give me a living* reason she's disloyal. 

Iago. I do not like the office : 
But sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, 
Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love, 
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, 
And being troubled with a raging tooth, 
I could not sleep. 

There are a kind of men so loose of soul 
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs : 
One of this kind is Cassio : 
In sleep I heard him say : ' Sweet Desdemona, 
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves ;' 
And then, sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand, 
Cry c O sweet creature ! Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor !' 

Oth. O monstrous ! monstrous ! 

Iago. Nay, this was but his dream. 



64 OTHELLO. [act in. 

Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion : 
'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. 

Iago. And this may help to thicken other proofs 
That do demonstrate thinly. 

Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces. 

Iago. Nay, but be wise : yet we see nothing done \ 
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this ; 
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief 
Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand ? 

Oth. I gave her such a one ; 'twas my first gift. 

Iago. I know not that : but such a handkerchief — 
I am sure it was your wife's — did I to-day 
See Cassio wipe his beard with. 

Oth. If it be that, — 

Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers, 
It speaks against her with the other proofs. 

Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives ! 
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. 
Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago ; 
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven : 
'Tis gone. 

Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow hell ! 
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne 
To tyrannous hate ! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, 
For 'tis of aspics' tongues ! 

Iago. Yet be content. 

Oth. O, blood, blood, blood ! 

Iago. Patience, I say ; your mind perhaps may change. 

Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea, 
Whose icy current and compulsive course 
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on 
To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; 
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, 
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, 
Till that a capable'" and wide revenge 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 65 

Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven, 

In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels. 

I here engage my words. 

Iago. Do not rise yet. \_Kneels. 

Witness, you ever-burning lights above, 
You elements that clip* us round about, 
Witness that here Iago doth give up 
The execution* of his wit, hands, heart, 
To wrong'd Othello's service ! Let him command, 
And to obey shall be in me remorse,* 
What bloody business ever. [They rise. 

Oth. I greet thy love, 

Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, 
And will upon the instant put thee to't : 
Within these three days let me hear thee say 
That Cassid's not alive. 

Iago. My friend is dead ; 'tis done at your request : 
But let her live. 

Oth. Damn her, lewd minx ! O, damn her ! 

Come, go with me apart ; I will withdraw, 
To furnish me with some swift means of death 
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. 

Iago. I am your own for ever. [Exeunt. 

Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia. 

Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia ? 

Em'il. I know not, madam. 

Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse 
Full of crusadoes :* and, but my noble Moor 
Is true of mind and made of no such baseness 
As jealous creatures are, it were enough 
To put him to ill thinking. 

Em'il. Is he not jealous ? 

Des. Who, he ? I think the sun where he was born 
Drew all such humours from him. 



66 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

Emil. Look, where he comes. 

Des. I will not leave him now till Cassio 
Be call'd to him. 

Enter Othello. 

How is't with you, my lord ? 

Oth. Well, my good lady. \Aside\ O, hardness to dissemble ! 
How do you, Desdemona ? 

Des. Well, my good lord. 

Oth. Give me your hand : this hand is moist, my lady. 

Des. It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow. 

Oth. This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart : 
Hot, hot, and moist : this hand of yours requires 
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, 
Much castigation, exercise devout ; 
For here's a young and sweating devil here, 
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, 
A frank one. 

Des. You may, indeed, say so ; 

For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. 

Oth. A liberal hand : the hearts of old gave hands ; 
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. 

Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. 

Oth. What promise, chuck ? 

Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. 

Oth. I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me ; 
Lend me thy handkerchief. 

Des. Here, my lord. 

Oth. That which I gave you. 

Des. I have it not about me. 

Oth. Not? 

Des. No, indeed, my lord. 

Oth. That's a fault. That handkerchief 
Did an Egyptian to my mother give ; 
She was a charmer, and could almost read 
The thoughts of people : she told her, while she kept it 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 67 

'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father 

Entirely to her love, but if she lost it 

Or made a gift of it, my father's eye » 

Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt 

After new fancies : she dying gave it me, 

And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, 

To give it her. I did so : and take heed on't ; 

Make it a darling like your precious eye ; 

To lose't or give't away were such perdition 

As nothing else could match. 

Des. Is't possible ? 

Oth. 'Tis true : there's magic in the web of it : 
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world 
The sun to course two hundred compasses, 
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work ; 
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk ; 
And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful 
Conserved of maidens' hearts. 

Des. Indeed ! is't true ? 

Oth. Most veritable ; therefore look to't well. 

Des. Then would to heaven that I had never seen't ! 

Oth. Ha ! wherefore ? 

Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash ? 

Oth. Is't lost ? is't gone ? speak, is it out o' the way ? 

Des. Heaven bless us ! 

Oth. Say you ? 

Des. It is not lost ; but what an if it were ? 

Oth. How? 

Des. I say, it is not lost. 

Oth. Fetch't, let me see it. 

Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. 
This is a trick to put me from my suit : 
Pray you, let Cassio be received again. 

Oth. Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives. 

Des. Come, come ; 



68 OTHELLO. [act hi. 

You'll never meet a more sufficient man. 

Oth. The handkerchief! 
m D es . I pray, talk me of Cassio. - 

Oth. The handkerchief! 

£) eSm A man that all his time 

Hath founded his good fortune on your love, 
Shared dangers with you, — 

Oth. The handkerchief! 

Des. In sooth, you are to blame. 

Oth. Away! l Exit 

Emit. -Is not this man jealous ? 

Des. I ne'er saw this before. 
Sure there's some wonder in this handkerchief: 
I am most unhappy in the loss of it. 

Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man. 
Look you, Cassio and my husband. 

Enter Cassio and Iago. 

Iago. There is no other way ; 'tis she must do't : 
And, lo, the happiness ! go and importune her. 

Des. How now, good Cassio ! what's the news with you ? 

Cas. Madam, my former suit : I do beseech you 
That by your virtuous means I may again 
Exist, and be a member of his love 
Whom I with all the duty of my heart 
Entirely honour : I would not be delay'd. 
If my offence be of such mortal kind 
That nor my service past nor present sorrows 
Nor purposed merit in futurity 
Can ransom me into his love again, 
But to know so must be my benefit ; 
So shall I clothe me in a forced content 
And shut myself up in some other course 
To fortune's alms. 

Des. Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio ! 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 69 

My advocation* is not now in tune ; 

My lord is not my lord, nor should I know him 

Were he in favour* as in humour alter'd. 

So help me every spirit sanctified, 

As I have spoken for you all my best 

And stood within the blank* of his displeasure 

For my free speech ! You must a while be patient : 

What I can do I will ; and more I will 

Than for myself I dare : let that suffice you. 

la go. Is my lord angry ? 

Emil. He went hence but now, 

And certainly in strange unquietness. 

lago. Can he be angry ? I have seCn the cannon, 
When it hath blown his ranks into the air, 
And, like the devil, from his very arm 
PufPd his own brother ; and can he be angry ? 
Something of moment then : I will go meet him : 
There's matter in't indeed, if he 'be angry. 

Des. I prithee, do so. [Exit lago. 

Something sure of state, 
Either from Venice or some unhatch'd* practice 
Made demonstrable fiere in Cyprus to him, 
Hath puddled his clear spirit ; and in such cases 
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, 
Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so ; 
For let our finger ache, and it indues* 
Our other healthful members even to that sense 
Of pain : nay, we must think men are not gods, 
Nor of them look for such observancy 
As fits the bridal.* Beshrew me much, Emilia-, 
I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, 
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul ; 
But now I find I had suborn'd the witness, 
And he's indicted falsely. 
I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout : 



70 OTHELLO. [act iv. 

If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit, 
And seek to effect it to my uttermost. 

Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship. [Exit. 

Emil. Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think, 
And no conception nor no jealous toy 
Concerning you. 

Des. Alas the day, I never gave him cause ! 

Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so ; 
They are not ever jealous for the cause, 
But jealous for they are jealous : 'tis a monster 
Begot upon itself, born on itself. 

Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind ! 

Emil. Lady, amen. [The curtain falls. 



ACT IV, 

Scene I. A room in the castle. 

Enter Othello and Emilia. 

Oth. You have seen nothing, then ? 

Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspeit. 

Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. 

Emil. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard 
Each syllable that breath made up between them. 

Oth. What, did they never whisper ? 

Emil. Never, my lord. 

Oth. Nor send you out o' the way. 

Emil. Never. 

Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing ? 

Emil. Never, my lord. 

Oth. That's strange. 

Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, 
Lay down my soul at stake : if you think other, 
Remove your thought ; it doth abuse your bosom. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. , 71 

If any wretch hath put this in your head, 
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse ! 
For if she be not honest,* chaste, and true, 
There's no man happy \ the purest of their wives 
Is foul as slander. 

Oth. Bid her come hither : go. [Exit Emilia. 

She says enough : yet she's a simple bawd 
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle drab, 
A closet lock and key of villanous secrets : 
And yet she'll kneel and pray ; I have seen her do't. 

Enter Desdemona with Emilia. 

Des. My lord, what is your will ? 

Oth. P ra y? chuck, come hither. 

Des. What is your pleasure ? 

Oth. Let me see your eyes ; 

Look in my face. 

Des. What horrible fancy's this ? 

Oth. [To Emilia^ Some of your function, mistress ; 
Leave procreants alone and shut the door ; 
Cough, or cry hem, if anybody come : 
Your mystery, your mystery : nay, despatch. [Exit Emilia. 

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import ? 
I understand a fury in your words, 
But not the words. 

Oth. Why, what art thou ? 

Des. Your wife, my lord ; your true and loyal wife. 

Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself; 
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves 
Should fear to seize thee : therefore be double damn'd ; 
Swear thou art honest. 

Des. Heaven doth truly know it. 

Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. 

Des. To whom, my lord ? with whom ? how am I false ? 

Oth. O Desdemona ! Away ! away ! av/ay ! 



72 OTHELLO. [act iv. 

» 

Des. Alas the heavy day ! Why do you weep ? 
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord ? 

Oth. Had it pleased heaven 
To try me with affliction ; had they rain'd 
All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head, 
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, 
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, 
I should have found in some place of my soul 
A drop of patience : but alas, to make me 
A fixed figure for the time of scorn 
To point his slow unmoving finger at I 1 
Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : ' 
But there, where I have garner'd* up my heart, 
Where either I must live or bear no life, 
The fountain from the which my current runs, 
Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! 
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads 
To knot and gender in ! Turn thy complexion there, 
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin, 
Ay, there, look grim as hell ! 

Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. 

Oth. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles, 
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, 

1 There has been difficulty enough made about the epithet ' unmoving ' to excuse the 
remark that it may mean either that the finger of scorn does not move from its object, 
or that it moves so slowly that its motion is not perceived. So in Euphucs and his Eng- 
land, ' You were ignorant of the pra^ices, thinking the Dial stands still, because you 
cannot perceive it to move.' Ed. 1597, Sig. E e. 'The tongue of a Louer should be 
like apoynt in a Dial, which though it goe none can see it going.' Idem, Sig. Y, 3. b. 
Or still more to the purpose in Shakespeare's Sonnet CIV. : — 

' Ah yet doth beauty, like a dial hand, 
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived.' 

Mr. Hunter proposed, Mr. Knight adopted, and I was once in favor of the following 
transposition in the first line — * A fixed figure of the time for scorn.' But- ' the time of 
scorn' is a phrase like 'the day of sorrow,' 'the hour of joy,' 'the age of progress.' 
— White. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 73 

Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet 

That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born ! 

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ! 

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, 
Made to write ' drab ' upon ? What committed ! 
Committed ! O thou public commoner ! 
I should make very forges of my cheeks, 
That would to cinders burn up modesty, 
Did I but speak thy deed. What committed ! 
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks; 
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, 
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, 
And will not hear it. What committed ! 
Impudent strumpet ! 

Des. By heaven, you do me wrong. 

Oth. Are not you a strumpet ? 

Des. No, as I am a Christian. 

Oth. What, not a drab ? 

Des. No, as I shall be saved. 

Oth. Is't possible ? 

Des. O, heaven forgive us ! 

Oth. I cry you mercy then : 

I took you for that cunning drab of Venice 
That married with Othello. You, mistress, 
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, 
And keep the gate of hell ! 

Re-enter Emilia. 

You, you, ay, you ! 
We have done our course ; there's money for your pains : 
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel. [Exit. 

Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive ? 
How do you, madam ? how do you, my good lady ? 

Des. 'Faith, half asleep. 

Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my lord ? 



74 OTHELLO. [act iv. 

Des. With who ? 

Emil. Why, with my lord, madam. 
Des. Who is thy lord ? 

Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady. 

Des. I have none : do not talk to me, Emilia j 
I cannot weep, nor answer have I none 
But what should go by water. 

Emil. I would you had never seen him ! 
Des. So would not I : my love doth so approve him. 
That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns, 
Hive grace and favour in them. 
Prithee, to-night lay on my bed my wedding sheets. 
Good faith, how foolish are our minds ! 
If I do die before thee, prithee shroud me 
In one of those same sheets. 

Emil. Come, come, you talk. 

Des. My mother had a maid call'd Barbara : 
S le was in love ; and he she loved proved mad 
And did forsake her : she had a song of c willow ;' 
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, 
And she died singing it : that song to-night 
Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do 
But to go hang my head all at one side 
And sing it like poor Barbara. 

[Singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, 
Sing all a green willow ; 
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, 

Sing willow, willow, willow : 
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans ; 

Sing willow, willow, willow ; 
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones ; 

Sing willow, willow, willow ; 
Sing all a green willow must be my garland. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 75 

Let nobody blame him ; his scorn I approve, — 
Nay, that's not next. Hark ! who is 't that knocks r 
Emil. It 's the wind. 

Des. [Singing] I call'd my love false love ; but what said he 
then ? 
Sing willow, willow, willow : 
Call thy husband hither 

Emil. • Here's a change indeed! [Exit. 

Des. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. 
How have I been behaved, that he might stick 
The small'st opinion on my least misuse ? 

Re-enter Emilia, with Iago. 

Iago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is't with you ? 

Des. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes 
Do it with gentle means and easy tasks : 
He might have chid me so ; for, in good faith, 
I am a child to chiding. 

Iago. What's the matter, lady ? 

Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her, 
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, 
As true hearts cannot bear. 

Des. Am I that name, Iago ? 

Iago. What name, fair lady ? 

Des. Such as she says my lord did say I was. 

Emil. He call'd her drab : a beggar in his drink 
Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.* 

Iago. Why did he so ? 

Des. I do not know; I am sure lam none such. 

Iago. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day ! 

Emil. Hath she forsook so many noble matches, 
Her father and her country and her friends, 
To be call'd drab ? would it not make one weep ? 



76 OTHELLO. [act iv. 

Des. It is my wretched fortune. 

Iago. Beshrew him for't ! 

How comes this trick upon him ? 

Des. Nay, heaven doth know. 

Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, 
Some busy and insinuating rogue, 
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, 
Have not devised this slander ; I'll be hang'd else. 

Iago. Fye, there is no such man ; it is impossible. 

Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him ! 

Emil. A halter pardon him ! and hell gnaw his bones ! 
Why should he call her drab ? who keeps her company? 
What place ? what time ? what form ! what likelihood ? 
The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave, 
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. 

heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold, 
And put in every honest hand a whip 

To lash the rascals naked through the world 
Even from the east to the west ! 

Iago. Speak within door. 

Emil. O, fye upon them ! Some such squire he was 
That turn'd your wit the seamy* side without, 
And made you to suspeft me with the Moor. 

Iago. You are a fool ; go to. 

Des. O good Iago, 

What shall I do to win my lord again ? 
Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of heaven, 

1 know not bow I lost him. Here I kneel : 
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love 
Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, 
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 
Delighted them in any other form, 

Or that I do not yet, and ever did, 

And ever will, though he do shake me oft' 



scene ii.] OTHELLO. 77 

To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly, 
Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much ; 
And his unkindness may defeat* my life, 
But never taint my love. 

lago. I pray you, be content ; 'tis but his humour : 
The business of the state does him offence, 
And he does chide with you. 

Des. If 'twere no other, — 

lago. 'Tis but so, I warrant, 

Go in, and weep not ; all things shall be well. \_Exeunt. 



' Scene II. Before the castle. 

Enter Roderigo and Iago, meeting. 

Iago. How now, Roderigo ! 

Rod. I do not find that thou dealest justly with me. 

Iago. What in the contrary ? 

Rod. Every day thou daffest* me with some device, Iago ; and 
rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency 
than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed 
no longer endure it ; nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace 
what already I have foolishly suffered. 

Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo ? 

Rod. Faith, I have heard too much ; for your words and per- 
formances are no kin together. 

Iago. You charge me most unjustly. 

Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my 
means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desde- 
mona would half have corrupted a votarist : you have told me she 
has received them and returned me expectations and comforts of 
sudden respect and acquittance ;* but I find none. 

Iago. Well ; go to ; very well. 

Rod. Very well ! go to ! I cannot go to, man ; nor 'tis not 



78 OTHELLO. [act iv. 

very well : by this hand, I say, 'tis very scurvy, and begin to find 
myself fopped in it. [ 

lago. Very well. 

Rod. I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself known 
to Desdemona : if she will return me my jewels, I will give over 
my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation ; if not, assure your- 
self I will seek satisfaction of you. 

Iago. You have said now. 

Rod. Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment- of 
doing. 

Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee ; and even from 
this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. 
Give me thy hand, Roderigo : thou hast taken against me a most 
just exception ; but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in 
thy affair. 

Rod. It hath not appeared. 

Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is 
not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that 
in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than 
ever, I mean purpose, courage and valour, this night show it : if 
thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me 
from this world with treachery and devise engines* for my life. 

Rod. Well, what is it ? is it within reason and compass ? 

Iago. Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to 
depute Cassio in Othello's place. 

Rod. Is that true ? why then Othello and Desdemona return 
again to Venice. 

Iago. O, no ; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with 
him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by 
some accident : wherein none can be so determinate as the 
removing of Cassio. 

Rod. How do you mean, removing of him ? 

Iago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place ; 
knocking out his brains. 



scene in.] OTHELLO. 79 

Rod. And that you would have me do ? 

lago. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups 
to-night with a harlotry,* and thither will I go to him : he knows 
not yet of his honourable fortune. If you will watch his going 
thence, which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, 
you may take him at your pleasure : I will be near to second your 
attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed 
at it, but go along w T ith me ; I will show you such a necessity in 
his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. [t 
is now high supper-time — and the night grows to waste : about it. 

Rod. I will hear further reason for this. 

Iago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt. 



Scene III. Cyprus, A street. 

Enter Iago and Roderigo. 

Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk ; straight will he come : 
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home : 
Quick, quick ; fear nothing ; I'll be at thy elbow : 
It makes us, or it mars us ; think on that, 
And fix most firm thy resolution. 

Rod. Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in't. 

Iago. Here, at thy hand : be bold, and take thy stand. [Retires. 

Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed ; 
And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons : 
'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword : he dies. 

[Goes to his stand. 

Iag£ Now, whether he kill Cassio, 
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, 
Every way makes my gain : live Roderigo, 
He calls me to a restitution large 
Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd* from him, 
As gifts to Desdemona : 
It must not be : if Cassio do remain. 



8o OTHELLO. [act iv, 

He hath a daily beauty in his life 

That makes me ugly ; and besides, the Moor 

May unfold me to him ; there stand I in much peril : 

No, he must die. Be't so. I hear him coming. 

Enter Cassio. 
Rod. I know his gait ; 'tis he. Villain, thou diest ! 

\_Makes a pass at Cassio. 
Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, 
But that my coat is better than thou know'st : 
I will make proof of thine. [Draws and wounds Roderigo. 

Rod. O, I am slain ! 

[Iago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and exit. 
Cas. I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho ! murder ! murder ! 

[Falls. 
What, ho ! no watch ? no passage ?* murder ! murder. 

Enter Lodovico and Gratia no, at a distance.' 

Gra. 'Tis some mischance ; the cry is very direful. 

Cas. O, help ! 

Lod. Hark! 

Rod. O wretched villain ! 

Lod. Two or three groan : it is a heavy night : 
These may be counterfeits : let's think't unsafe 
To come in to the cry without more help. 

Rod. Nobody come ? then shall I bleed to death. 

Re-enter Iago, with a light. 
Iago. Who's there? whose noise is this that cries on murder? 
Lod. We do not know. 

Iago. Did not you hear a cry ? » 

Cas. Here, here ! for heaven's sake, help me ! 
Iago. What are you here that cry so grievously ? 
Cas. Iago ? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains ! 
Give me some help. 

Iago. O me, lieutenant ! what villains have done this ? 



scene in.] OTHELL O. 8 1 

Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout, 
And cannot make awav. 

Iago. O treacherous villains ! 

What are you there ? come in and give some help. 

[To Lodovico and Gratiano. 

Rod. O, help me here ! 

Cas. That's one of them. 

Iago. O murderous slave ! O villain ! 

[Stabs Roderigo. 

Rod. O damn'd Iago ! O inhuman dog ! 

Iago. Kill men i' the dark ! Where be these bloody thieves ? 
How silent is this town ! Ho ! murder ! murder ! 
What may you be ? are you of good or evil ? 

Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us. 

Iago. Signior Lodovico ? 

Lod. He, sir. 

Iago. I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains. 

Gra. Cassio ! 

Iago. How is't, brother ? 

Cas. My leg is cut in two. 

Iago. Marry, heaven forbid ! 

Know we this face, or no r 
Alas ! mv friend and my dear countryman, 
Roderigo ? no : — yes, sure : O heaven ! Roderigo. 

Enter Emilia. 

Emil. 'Las, what's the matter ? what's the matter, husband ? 

Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark 
By Rodengo, and fellows that are 'scaped : 
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead. 

Emil. Alas, good gentleman ! alas, good Cassio ! 

Iago. Emilia, run you to the citadel, 
And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd ! *' 

Will you go on ? I pray. [Aside~\ This is the night 
That either makes me or fordoes"'' me quite. [Exeunt. 



82 OTHELLO. [act v. 

ACT V. 

Scene I. A bedchamber in the castle : Desdemona in bed asleep ; 
a light burning. 

Enter Othello. 
Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul : 
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! 
It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood, 
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow 
And smooth as monumental alabaster. 
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. 
Put out the light, and then put out the light :' 
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
I can again thy former light restore, 
Should I repent me : but once put out thy light, 
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
I know not where is that Promethean heat 
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose, 
I cannot give it vital growth again, 

It needs must wither : I'll smell it on the tree. \_Kissing her. 

Ah, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
Justice to break her sword ! One more, one more : 

1 * Put out the light, and then put cut the light C Mr. Verplanck remarks upon this 
passage : 'This has long been a favorite text for critical and theatrical discussion. 
Nearly a century ago, Fielding, in his Journey to the next Wciid y makes Betterton and 
Booth, the great actors of the preceding generation, dispute .in the Elysian Fields on the 
different readings or meanings of the line, and finally refer it to Shakespeare himself, 
who frankly confesses that he is not able to decide the controversy. But the author had 
a clear meaning in his mind, and the only difficulty is to decide which of the several 
meanings presented by varied punctuation and emphasis, is the one intended.' We 
have adopted a reading which is supported by Mr. Grant White and the Cambridge 
editors. We subjoin Mr. "White's note : ' The first clause of this sentence refers, of 
course, to the light which is burning in the chamber; the second, in my apprehension, 
to the light of Othello's life, her existence, without whom, to him, the world is dark. 
Warburton ingeniously read, " Put out the light, and then — Put out the light!" — thus 
making the second clause the lively expression of stimulataJ intelligence ; to me it is 
the despairing utterance of the profoundesfe woe.' 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 83 

Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, 
And love thee after : one more, and this the last : 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 
But they are cruel tears : this sorrow's heavenly ; 
It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. 

Des. Who's there ? Othello ? 

Oth. Ay, Desdemona. 

Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona ? 

Des. Ay, my lord. 

Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime 
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, 
Solicit for it straight. 

Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that ? 

Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by : 
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit ; 
No ; heaven forfend ! I would not kill thy soul. 

Des. Talk you of killing ? 

Oth. Ay, I do. 

Des. Then heaven have mercy on me ! 

Oth. Amen, with all my heart ! 

Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. 

Oth. Hum! 

Des. And yet I fear you ; for you are fatal then 
When your eyes roll so : why I should fear I know not, 
Since guiltiness I know not ; but yet I feel I fear. 

Oth. Think on thy sins. 

Des. They are loves I bear you. 

Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest. - 

Des. That death's unnatural that kills for loving. 
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip ? 
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame : 
These are portents ; but yet I hope, I hope, 
They do not point on me. 

Oth. Peace and be still ! 

Des. I will so. What's the matter? 



4 OTHELLO. 



Oth. That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee 
Thou gavest to Cassio. 

Des. No, by my life and soull 

Send for the man and ask him. 

Oth. Sweet soul, take heed, 

Take heed of perjury; thou arton thy death-bed. 

Des. Ay, but not yet to die. 

Oth. Yes, presently : 

Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin ; 
For to deny each article with oath 
Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception 
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. 

Des. Then Lord have mercy on me ! 

Oth. I say, amen. 

Des. And have you mercy too ! I never did 
Offend you in my life ; never loved Cassio 
But with such general warranty of heaven 
As I might love : I never gave him token. 

Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand. 

perjured woman ! thou dost stone my heart, 
And makest me call what I intend to do 

A murder, which I thought a sacrifice : 

1 saw the handkerchief. 

Des. He found it then ; 

I never gave it him : send for him hither ; 
Let him confess a truth. 

Oth. He hath confess'd. 

Des. He will not say so. 

Oth. No, his mouth is stopp'd ; 

Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't. 

Des. O, my fear interprets ! what, is He dead ? 

Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge 
Had stomach for them all. 

Des. Alas ! he is betray'd, and I undone ! 

Oth. Out, strumpet ! weep'st thou for him to my face ? 



scene i.] OTHELLO. g 5 

Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not ! 

Oth. Down, strumpet ! 

Des. Kill me to-morrow ; let me live to-night ! 

Oth. Nay, if you strive, — 

Des. But half an hour ! 

Oth. Being done, there is no pause. 

Des. But while I say one prayer ! 

Oth. It is too late. [He stifles her. 

Emil. \Within\ My lord, my lord ! what, ho ! my lord, my lord ! 

Oth. What noise is this ? Not dead? not yet quite dead ? 
I that am cruel am yet merciful ; 
I would not have thee linger in thy pain : 
So, so. 1 

Emil. \Within\ What, ho ! my lord, my lord ! 

Oth. Who's there ? 

Emil. \_Within\ O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you ! 

Oth. Yes : 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead. 
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death. 
The noise was high ! Ha ! no more moving ? 
Still as the grave. Shall she come in ? were't good ? 
I think she stirs again. No. What's best to do ? 
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife : 
My wife ! my wife ! what wife ? I have no wife. 
O, insupportable ! O, heavy hour ! 
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 
Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe 
Should yawn at alteration. 

Emil. \_Within\ I do beseech you 

That I may speak with you, O, good my lord ! 

Oth. I had forgot thee : O, come in, Emilia. 
Soft ; by and by. Let me the curtains draw. 

1 There is no stage-direction at this place in the original copies ; but it is most probable 
that the poet intended Othello here to stab Desdemona, according to tiie practice of the 
modem stage. His previous resolution, ' I'll not shed her blood,' is forgotten in the 
agony and terror of the moment, when he says, ' Not dead ? not yet quite dead ?' 



86 OTHELLO. [act v. 

Where art thou ? What's the matter with thee now ? 

[ Unlocks the door. 
Enter Emilia. 

Emil. O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done ! 

Oth. What, now ? 

E?nil. But now, my lord. 

Oth. It is the very error of the moon ; 
She comes more nearer the earth than she was wont 
And makes men mad. 

Emil. Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian 
Call'd Roderigo. 

Oth. Roderigo kill'd ! 

And Cassio kill'd ! 

Emil. No, Cassio is not kill'd. 

Oth. Not Cassio kill'd ! then murder's out of tune, 
And sweet revenge grows harsh. 

Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd ! 

Emil. Alas, what cry is that ? 

Oth. That! what? 

Emil. Out, and alas ! that was my lady's voice. 
Help ! help, ho ! help ! O lady, speak again ! 
Sweet Desdemona ! O sweet mistress, speak ! 

Des. A guiltless death I die. 

Emil. O, who hath done this deed ? 

Des. Nobody ; I myself. Farewell : 
Commend me to my kind lord : O, farewell ! \Dies. 

Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd ! 

Emil. Alas, who know.; ? 

Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I. 

Emil. She said so : I must needs report the truth. 

Oth. She's like a liar gone to burning hell : 
'Twas I that kill'd her. 

Emil. O, the more angel she, 

And you the blacker devil ! 

Oth. She turn'd to folly and she was a drab. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. . 87 

Emit. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. 

Oth. She was false as water. 

Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say- 

That she was false : O, she was heavenly true ! 

Oth. O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, 
But that I did proceed upon just grounds 
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. 

Emil. My husband ! 

Oth. Thy husband. 

Emil. That she was false to wedlock ? 

Oth. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, 
If heaven would make me such another world 
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
I'ld not have sold her for it. 

Emil. My husband ! 

Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first : 

Emil. My husband ! 

Oth. What needs this iteration, woman ? I say thy husband. 

Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love ! 
My husband say that she was false ! 

Oth, He, woman ; 

I say thy husband : dost understand the word ? 
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. 

Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul 
Rot half a grain a day ! he lies to the heart : 
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. 

Oth. Ha! 

Emil. Do thy worst : 
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven 
Than thou wast worthy her. 

Oth. Peace, you were best. . 

Emil. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm 
As I have to be hurt. O gull ! O dolt ! 
As ignorant as dirt ! thou hast done a deed — 
I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known, 



88 OTHELLO. [act v 

Though I lost twenty lives. Help ! help, ho ! help ! 
The Moor hath kilPd my mistress ! A4urder ! murder ! 

Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others. 

Mon. What is the matter ? How now, general ! 

EmiL O, are you come, Iago ? you have done well, 
That men must lay their murders on your neck. 

Gra. What is the matter ? 

EmiL Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man : 
He says thou told'st him that his wife was false : 
I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain. 
Speak, for my heart is full. 

Iago. I told him what I thought, and told no more 
Than what he found himself was apt and true. 

EmiL But did you ever tell him she was false ? 

Iago. I did. 

EmiL You told a lie, an odious, damned lie ; 
Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lie ! 
She false with Cassio !. Did you say with Cassio ? 

Iago. With Cassio, mistress ; go to, charm* your tongue. 

EmiL I will not charm my tongue ; I am bound to speak : 
My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed, — 

All. O heavens forfend ! 

Iago. I charge you, get you home. 

EmiL Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak : 
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. 
Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. 

Oth. O ! O ! O ! {Falling on the bed. 

EmiL Nay, lay thee down and roar ; 

For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent 
That e'er did lift up eye. 

Oth. [_Rising] O, she was foul ! 

I scarce did know you, uncie : there lies your niece, 
Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd : 
I know this act shows horrible and grim. 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 89 

Gra. Poor Desdemona ! I am glad thy father's dead : 
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief 
Shore his old thread in twain : did he live now, 
This sight would make him do a desperate turn, 
Yea, curse his better angel from his side, 
And fall to reprobation. 

Oth. 'Tis pitiful ; but yet lago knows 
That she with Cassio hath the acl: of shame 
A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it : 
And she did gratify his amorous works 
With that recognizance and pledge of love 
Which I first gave her ; I saw it in his hand : 
It was a handkerchief, an antique token 
My father gave my mother. 

Emil. O heaven ! O heavenly powers ! 

Iago, 'Zounds ! hold your peace. 

Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of, 
I found by fortune and did give my husband ; 
For often with a solemn earnestness, 
More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle, 
He begg'd of me to steal it. 

logo. Filth, thou liest ! 

Emil. By heaven, I do not. I do not, gentlemen. 

Oth. Are there no stones in heaven 
But what serve for the thunder ? Precious villain ! 

\_He runs at lago : lago, from behind, stabs Emilia, and exit. 

All. He hath kill'd his wife ! 

Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, 
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor : 
Come, guard the door without ; let him not pass, 
But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, 
For 'tis a damned slave. \_Exeunt Montano ana Gratiano. 

Oth. I am not valiant neither, 

But every puny whipster gets my sword. 
But why should honour outlive honesty ? 



90 OTHELLO. [act v. 

Let it go all. 

Em'il. What did thy song bode, lady ? 
Hark, canst thou hear me ? I will play the swan, 
And die in music. \Slnging\ Willow, willow, willow. 
Moor, she was chaste ; she loved thee, cruel Moor ; 
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true ; 
So speaking as I think, I die, I die. \_Dies. 

Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber ; 
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's* temper. — 
O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth. 

Gra. \Within\ If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear : 
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. 

Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, 
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee, 

Re-enter Gratiano. . 

Gra. What is the matter ? 

Oth. Behold, I have a weapon ; 

A better never did itself sustain 
Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day 
That with this little arm and this good sword 
I have made my way through more impediments 
Than twenty times your stop : but, O vain boast ! 
Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now. 
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd ; 
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt 
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 
Do you go back dismay'd ? 'tis a lost fear : 
Man but a rush against Othello's breast, 
And he retires. Where should Othello go ? 
Now, how dost th-ou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench !* 
Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt, 
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, 
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl ! 
Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave ! 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 91 

Whip me, ye devils, 

From the possession of this heavenly sight ! 

Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur ! 

Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! 

O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead ! 

Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 

Enter Lodovico, Montano and Cassio, led in wounded. 

Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man ? 
Oth. That's he, that Vas Othello : here I am. 
Lod. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. 

Enter Officers, with Iago, prisoner. 

Oth. I look down towards his feet : but that's a fable. 
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. \_Wounds Iago. 

Lod. Wrench his sword from him. 

l a g Q% I bleed, sir ; but not kill'd. 

Oth. I am not sorry neither : I'ld have thee live ; 
For in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. 1 

Lod. O thou Othello, that wert once so good, 
Fall'n in the practice* of a damned slave, 
What shall be said to thee ? 

Oth. Why, any thing : 

An honourable murderer, if you will ; 
For nought did I in hate, but all in honour. 

1 Contrast Othello's mood, as exhibited in this passage, with that displayed in Scene I., 
A<3 II., where Othello, embracing Desdemona after her voyage from Venice, exclaims : — 

* If it were now to die, 
'Twere now to be most happy 5' &c. 

In both these antagonistic conditions of mind, he feels 'twere * happiness to die.' In 
the one, however, he is in the enjoyment of the highest bliss that life may afford ; he 
is ripe, therefore, for death. To his feeling Death and Love are twin brothers, since the 
latter, as well as the former, releases the soul from the daily pressure of existence. To 
continue, then, in this bliss, were to die and ' to be most happy.' 'But when, after- 
ward, he experiences the profoundest grief that life can inflicl, his thoughts again look 
toward death ; for intense grief, like highest love, loosens the hold upon sense, and sets 
the soul afloat in that twilight realm where it is felt that ' to die is gain.'— Editor. 



92 OTHELLO. [act-v 

Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany : 
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death ? 

Oth. Ay. 

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause. 

Oth. I do believe it, and Task your pardon. 
Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil 
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body ? 

lago. Demand me nothing ; what you know, you know : 
From this time forth I never will speak word. 

Oth. Well, thou dost best. 

Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befalPn, 
Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter 
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo, 
And here another : the one of them imports 
The death of Cassio to be undertook 
By Roderigo. 

Oth. O villain ! 

Cas. Most heathenish and most gross ! 

Lod. Now here's another discontented paper, 
Found in his pocket too ; and this, it seems, 
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain ; 
But that, belike, lago in the interim 
Came in and satisfied him. 

Oth. O the pernicious caitiff! 

How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief 
That was my wife's ? 

Cas. I found it in my chamber : 

And he himself confess'd but even now 
That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose 
Which wrought to his desire. 

Oth. O fool ! fool ! fool ! 

Cas. There is besides in Roderigo's letter, 
How he upbraids lago, that he made him 
Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came 
That I was cast : and even but now he spake 



scene i.] OTHELLO. 93 

After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, 
Iago set him on. 

Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us : 
Your power and your command is taken off, 
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, 
If there be any cunning cruelty 
That can torment him much and hold him long, 
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, 
Till that the nature of your fault be known 
To the Venetian state. Come, bring away. 

Oth. Soft you ; a word or two before you go. 
I have done the state some service, and they know't. 
No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, 
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, 
Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak 
Of one that loved not wisely but too well ; 
Of one not easily jealous but, being wrought, 
Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one whose hand, 
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away, 
Richer than all his tribe ; of one whose subdued eyes, 
Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this ; 
And say besides, that in Aleppo once, 
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk 
Beat a Venetian and- traduced the state, 
I took by the throat the circumcised dog 
And smote him, thus. [Stabs himself. 

Lod. O bloody period ! 

Gra. All that's spoke is marr'd. 

Oth. I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee : no way but this, 
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies. 

Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon ; 
For he was great of heart. [The curtain falls. 



GLOSSARY. 



Abuse, delusion, deception. 

Acknotvn ,• to be acknown is to acknowl- 
edge. 

Advised, considerate. 

Advocation, pleading, advocacy. 

Affined, bound, joined by affinity. 

Agnise, to acknowledge, confess. 

Aim, to guess, conjecture. 

Allowance, approval. 

Ancient, an ensign-bearer. 

Autre, a cave. 

Assay, to test, make proof of. 

Besort, attendance. 

Blank, the white mark in the middle of 
a target, hence metaphorically the object 
aimed at. 

Brace, armor for the arm. 

Bridal, a nuptial feast. 

Callet, a trull. 

Cannakin, a little can. 

Capable, ample, capacious. 

Carack, a large ship of burden. 

Cast, to reject, dismiss. 

Ccrtcs, certainly. 

Chambcrer, an effeminate man. 

Charm, to conjure by superstitious obser- 
vances ; charm your tongue, silence your 
tongue. 

Check, rebuke, control ; a technical term 
in falconry. When a falcon flics at a 
bird which is not her proper game, she 
is said to check at it. 



Circumstance, a tedious argument. 

Clip, to embrace, inclose. 

Collied, blackened. 

Condition, temper, quality. 

Conjecl, conjecture. 

Consuls, senators. 

Courtship, acts and expressions of courtesy. 

Critical, ready to censure, cynical. 

Crusado, a Portuguese gold coin, stamped 

with a cross. 
Cunning, skill, knowledge. 
Daff, to put off with an excuse. 
Defeat, to undo, destroy. 
Delations, subtle, intimate confessions or 

informations. 
Demerit, merit, desert. 
Denotement, marking. 
Disposition, maintenance 
Driven bed, one for which the Gathers a.e 

selected by driving with a fan. 
Engine, a machine of war 
Entertainment, re-admission to office. 
Erring, wandering, errant. 
Execution, employment, exercise 
Exhibition, allowance, pension. 
Exsuffiicatc, probably means puffed out, 

extravagant. 
Extern, outward. 
Extravagant, foreign, wandering. 
Favour, countenance. 
Fincless, endless. 
Fond, foolish, foolishly affectionate. 



9 6 



GLOSS ART. 



For, for that, because. 

Fordo, to ruin, destroy. 

Forked, horned. 

From, contrary to. 

Full, complete. 

Garner, to lay by, as corn in a barn. 

Grange, the farmstead attached to a mon- 
astery, a solitary farm-house. 
Guardage, guardianship. 

Guinea-hen, the pintado, a cant term. 

Gyve, to fetter. 

Haggard, unreclaimed, wanton. 

Harlotry, this was used as a word of re- 
proach in Elizabeth's time. 

Honest, incorruptible, chaste, modest. 

Horologuc, a clock. 

Ice-brook, an icy-cold broo':. 

Idle, sterile, barren. 

Indue, to imbue. 

Ingcncr, designer, inventor. 

Ingraft, rooted, engrafted. 

Intendment, intention. 

Intcntivcly, attentively. 

Jess, a strap of leather attached to the 
talons of a hawk by which it is held on 
the fist. 

Jump, exactly, nicely. 

Knave, a serving-man. 

Lay, wager. 

Liberal, licentious. 

Living, lively, convincing. 

Loivn, a sorry fellow. 

Magnifico, the chief magistrate at Venice. 

Mammcring, hesitating. 

Mandragora, a plant of soporiferous qual- 
ity, supposed to resemble a man. 

Mere, entire, total. 

Mortal, fatal, deadly. 

Napkin, a handkerchief. 

Opinion, reputation, character. 

Owe, to possess, own. 

Pagan, a person of vicious conduct. 

Passage, persons passing to and fro. 

Pioners, formerly soldiers in disgrace, set to 
rough and menial tasks. 

Poise, weight, or moment. 



Portance, conduct, behavior. 

Potential, mighty, powerful. 

Praclict, wicked stratagem, artifice. 

Probal, probable. 

Profane, outspoken. 

Put on, urge on. 

Quality, profession. 

Quests, messengers, reports. 

Quicken, to come to life. 

Remorse, pity. 

Repeals, recalls. 

Rouse, a draught of jollity. 

Sagittary, supposed by some to be an inn 
bearing that sign ; and by others to be 
the official residence of the commander- 
in-chief of the Venetian army and navy 
— the figure of an archer, with his bow 
drawn, being over the gate of that resi- 
dence. 

Scan, to examine subtly. 

Seamy, showing the seam or sewing. 

Seel, to close. 

Self -bounty, native goodness. 

Sequestration, separation. 

Slubber, to slur over ; slubber the gloss — to 
take off the gloss. 

Stuff, material, substance. 

Success, issue, consequence. 

Suggest, to tempt, entice. 

Take out, to copy. 

Trash, to check, as a huntsman his hounds. 

Traverse, an ancient military word of com- 
mand. 

Tiuiggcn, made of twigs, wicker. 

Unbonneted, irrespective of conventional 
distinctions of rank, official position, &c. 

Unhatched, undisclosed. 

Unhoused, free to change one's abode, un- 
married. 

Watch, to tame by keeping constantly 
awake. 

Wench. This word originally signified 
only a girl or young woman. 

Wight, person. 

Wretch. This word was once usjd as a 
term of endearment. 



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Plummer Professor of Christian Morals. In one volume, i6mo. Price, $1.50. 

BARRY GRAY'S WORKS. 

Humorous and Popular. 4 vols., crown 8vo, cloth, per volume, $1.75. 
Married Life. Matrimonial Infelicities. 

Out of Town. Cakes and Ale. 

THE STANDARD DRAMA. 

The text, as played by Mr Edwin Booth. l2mo, paper covers. Price, 30 cents 
each. 
No. 1. Richard the Third. No. 5. Romeo and Juliet. 

" 2. Macbeth. " 6. Brutus. 

" 3. Merchant of Venice. " 7. The Lady of Lyons. 

« 4. The Fool's Revenge. " 8. Othello. 

A New Way to Pay Old Debts. Hamlet. 

Much Ado about Nothing. King Lear. 

Richelieu. Ruy Bias. 

The Winter's Tale. The Apostate. 

Don Caesar De Bazan. The Stranger. 

LIBRARY OF CHOICE FICTION. 

Playing for High Stakes. By Annie Thomas, Author of " Dennis 
Donne," etc., etc. With illustrations. 

Beautiful Miss Johnson, and other Stories. With illustrations. 

Sketches of Society and Travel. By an " Amateur Casual," and 
others. With Illustrations. 

Mary Eaglestone's Lover, and other Stories. With illustrations. 
Sketches of Club Life, Hunting, and other Sports. With illustrations. 
8vo size, paper covers. Each 50 cents. 

HURD AND HOUGHTON, Publishers, 
459 Broome Street, New York. 



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